Frost’s Favourites – A Poem

Oh Dear! I completely forgot I had this sitting in my drafts folder. Last month was poetry month and I had this post sitting pretty. And then it completely slipped my mind.

This is one of my favourite poems and one by Shelley.  It is called the Indian Serenade. While it does veer towards romance, I particularly love the second stanza.  While I could associate it with romance, it also seems to be to rather apt for every melancholic feeling I go through.

In honour of poetry month that went by…

Here’s the text.

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!

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 heart beats loud and fast;—

Oh! press it to thine own again,

Where it will break at last.

I am sure every one of us has a few or at least one poem that we love. And the best part of a poem is that everyone has their own take on it. The Indian Serenade could mean a dozen things to a dozen people, it is all in one’s perspective. Poetry is beautiful that way. Love it or hate it, one just can’t ignore it.