“I Arise From Dreams Of Thee” A Poetic Serenade From Shelley

I arise from dreams of thee

In the first sweet sleep of night

When the winds are breathing low,

And the stars are shining bright.

I arise from dreams of thee,

And a spirit in my feet

Has led me―who knows how?―

To thy chamber-window, sweet!

The wandering airs they faint

On the dark the silent stream―

The champak odors fail

Like sweet thoughts in a dream;

The nightingale's complaint,

It dies upon her heart,

As I must die on thine,

O, beloved as thou art!

O, lift me from the grass!

I die, I faint, I fail!

Let thy love in kisses rain

On my lips and eyelids pale.

My cheek is cold and white alas!

My heart beats loud and fast:

O, press it close to thine again,

Where it will break at last.