The Indian Serenade

I arise from dreams of theeIn 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 feetHath led me--who knows how?To thy chamber window, SweetlThe wandering airs they faintOn the dark, the silent stream—The Champak odours failLike sweet thoughts in a dream;The nightingale’s complaint,It dies upon her hesrt;—As I must on thine,Oh, beloved as thou art.Oh, lift me from the grass.I die. I faint. I fail.Let the love in kisses rainOn my lips and eyelids pale.My cheek is cold and white, alas.My heart beats loud and fast;—