"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!"

Two of the boys, who had heard Hugh sing the song before, hummed a soft
accompaniment. When he began the second verse several more began to hum;
they had caught the melody. The couples on the veranda moved quietly to
the porch railing, their chatter silent, their attention focused on a
group of dim figures standing in the shadow of an elm. Hugh was singing
well, better than he ever had before. Neither he nor his audience knew
that the lyric was immortal, but its tender, passionate beauty caught
and held them.

"The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream--
The champak odors fail
Like sweet-thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint
It dies upon her heart,
As I must die on thine
O beloved as thou art!

"Oh lift me from the grass!
I die, I faint, I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my cheeks 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."

There was silence for a moment after Hugh finished. The shadows, the
moonlight, the boy's soft young voice had moved them all. Suddenly a
girl on the veranda cried, "Bring him up!" Instantly half a dozen others
turned to their escorts, insisting shrilly: "Bring him up. We want to
see him."

Hugh jerked the guitar cord from around his neck, banded the instrument
to Collings, and tried to run. A burst of laughter went up from the
freshmen. They caught him and held him fast until the Tuxedo-clad
upper-classmen rushed down from the veranda and had him by the arms.
They pulled him, protesting and struggling, upon the veranda and into
the living-room.

The girls gathered around him, praising, demanding more. He flushed
scarlet when one enthusiastic maiden forced her way through the ring,
looked hard at him, and then anno