Lines to an Indian Air

Serenade 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, belovèd 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!

Collection: 
English
1812
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Sub Title: 
VI. Lovers

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