Am I waking, am I sleeping? As the first faint dawn comes creeping Thro' the pane, I am aware Of an unseen presence hovering, Round, above, in the dusky air: A downy bird, with an odorous wing, That fans my forehead, and sheds perfume, As sweet as love, as soft as death, Drowsy-slow through the summer-gloom. My heart in some dream-rapture saith, It is she. Half in a swoon, I spread my arms in slow delight.-- O prolong, prolong the night, For the nights are short in June!