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
Hath led me, who knows how
To thy chamber window, Sweet
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream
The Champak odours fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream
The nightingale’s complaint
It dies upon her heart
As I must on thine
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 again
Where it will break at last.