PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
Will take from both a deep autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe,
Like wither'd leaves, to quicken a new birth; And, by the incantation of this verse,
Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind' Be through my lips to unawakcn'd earth
The trumpet of a prophecy' O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
618 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 Hath led me who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet!
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream And the Champak's odours [pine]
Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart, As I must on thine,
O beloved as thou art!
�� �
