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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.
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