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    THE INDIAN SERENADE A Poem read by LeSCINTILLA

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    LeSCINTILLA

    par LeSCINTILLA

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    THE INDIAN SERENADE By PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
    POEM read by LeSCINTILLA -- VIDEO MONTAGE by LeSCINTILLA
    lescintilla.com

    "The Indian Serenade"
    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
    Has 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 die on thine,
    O 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!