Indian Serenade（1 / 1）

Percy Bysshe Shelley

I arise fro dreas of thee

In the first sweet sleep of night,

When the ds are breathg low,

And the stars are shg bright;

I arise fro dreas of thee,

And a spirity feet

Hath led —who knows how?

To thy chaber dow, Sweet!

The wanderg airs they fat

On the dark, the silent strea—

The Chapak odors fail

Like sweet thoughtsa drea;

The nightgales pt.

It dies upon her heart;—

As I t on the,

Oh, beloved as thou art!

Oh liftfro the grass!

I die!I fat!I fail!

Let thy lovekisses ra

On y lips and eyelids pale.

My check is ld and white, as!

My heart beats loud and fast;—

Oh!Press it to the own aga,

Where it will break at st.