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 odors fall 
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! 

O, lift me from the grass! 
I die, I faint, I fall! 
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!