Tuesday, December 20, 2011

The Indian Serenade

Lake of Longing, 2008, Veronica Atanacio

I arise from dreams of thee   
  In the first sweet sleep or 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,   
  Oh, beloved as thou art!  

Oh, 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 own again,   
  Where it will break at last!

~by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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