The Indian Girl’s Song

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sleep of night —
The winds are breathing low
And the stars are burning bright.
I arise from dreams of thee –
And a spirit in my feet
Has borne me — Who knows how?
To thy chamber window, sweet! —

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark silent stream —
The champak odours 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.
Oh press it close to thine again
Where it will break at last.