1. 
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, 5
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me—­who knows how? 
To thy chamber window, Sweet!

2. 
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream—­ 10
The Champak odours fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale’s complaint,
It dies upon her heart;—­
As I must on thine, 15
Oh, beloved as thou art!

3. 
Oh lift me from the grass! 
I die!  I faint!  I fail! 
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale. 20
My cheek is cold and white, alas! 
My heart beats loud and fast;—­
Oh! press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.

NOTES:  3 Harvard manuscript omits When. 4 shining]burning Harvard manuscript, 1822. 7 Hath led Browning manuscript, 1822;
   Has borne Harvard manuscript; Has led 1824.
11 The Champak Harvard manuscript, 1822, 1824;
    And the Champak’s Browning manuscript.
15 As I must on 1822, 1824;
    As I must die on Harvard manuscript, 1839, 1st edition.
16 Oh, beloved Browning manuscript, Harvard manuscript, 1839, 1st edition;
    Beloved 1822, 1824.
23 press it to thine own Browning manuscript;
    press it close to thine Harvard manuscript, 1824, 1839, 1st edition;
    press me to thine own, 1822.

***

CANCELLED PASSAGE.

[Published by W.M.  Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works”, 1870.]

O pillow cold and wet with tears! 
Thou breathest sleep no more!

***

TO SOPHIA [MISS STACEY].

[Published by W.M.  Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works”, 1870.]

1. 
Thou art fair, and few are fairer
Of the Nymphs of earth or ocean;
They are robes that fit the wearer—­
Those soft limbs of thine, whose motion
Ever falls and shifts and glances 5
As the life within them dances.

2. 
Thy deep eyes, a double Planet,
Gaze the wisest into madness
With soft clear fire,—­the winds that fan it
Are those thoughts of tender gladness 10
Which, like zephyrs on the billow,
Make thy gentle soul their pillow.

3. 
If, whatever face thou paintest
In those eyes, grows pale with pleasure,
If the fainting soul is faintest 15
When it hears thy harp’s wild measure,
Wonder not that when thou speakest
Of the weak my heart is weakest.