the indian serenade - david moore lyrics
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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 belovèd 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 hеart beats loud and fast; *
oh! press it to thine own again
whеre it will break at last
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