I arise from dreams of thee,
In the first sweet sleep of night;
When 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.
Oh take my last fond sigh,
I die--I faint--I fall;
The dews of night are chill
On my lips and eyelids pale;
My cheek is cold and white,
And my heart beats loud and fast;
Oh press it close to thine,
Where it will break at last.