June 14th Saturday
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,
Oh, belove'd 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 to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.