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Percy Bysshe Shelley
The Indian Serenade

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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
Hath 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 on thine,
Oh, belovèd as thou art!

O, 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! 

Love is, above all, the gift of oneself. - Jean Anouilh,

When I am sad and weary. When I think all hope has gone.
When I walk along High Holborn, I think of you with nothing on
.

Adrian Mitchell

Those have most power to hurt us that we love. - Francis Beaumont

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