The Indian Serenade by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I think my inner (or outer, more often than I’d like…) drama queen loves Shelley. He doesn’t really screw around with throwing all his emotions out there. One line that’s always stuck with me is O World! O Life! O Time! / On whose last steps I climb. And then there’s this one: I die! I faint! I fail! / Let thy love in kisses rain / On my lips and eyelids pale. I don’t know about you, but I don’t know anyone who talks like that. Of course, while I can accept it from Shelley (who seems to have adopted the persona of a passionate youth, in my mind), it would seem cheesy from pretty much anyone else. Maybe it’s because he is such a tragic figure. At any rate, it will take a long time to post all his poems, so I like that I can just go hunting for a new one to post whenever the urge strikes me.
The Indian Serenade
By Percy Bysshe Shelley
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 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:
O press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last!
The Peeping Tom Peeps
By Percy Bisque Silley
I arise from steamy dreams
From the sweaty sleep of night,
When the wind’s one nostril blows
And the stars are kinda bright.
I arise from dreams to pee
Yet a spirit in my feet
Hath led me—who knows where?
Someone’s chamber window… Sweet!
My wandering airs they fart
In the dark – unsilent stream!
And “the Champak’s” odours [mine]
Disturbing like a dream;
The nightingale complains,
It dies upon my fart
As I must too perchance
For I fear I hear the cops!
O lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
I have tried to run away
With my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
More farts beat loud and fast:
I press mine cheeks and hold again…
When shall it break at last!