La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered from the lake

And no birds sing

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel's granary is full

And the harvest's done

I see a lily on thy brow

With anguish moist and fever-dew

And on thy cheeks a fading rose

Fast withereth too

I met a lady in the meads

Full beautiful - a faery's child

Her hair was long, her foot was light

And her eyes were wild

I made a garland for her head

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone

She looked at me as she did love

And made sweet moan

I set her on my pacing steed

And nothing else saw all day long

For sidelong would she bend, and sing

A faery's song

She found me roots of relish sweet

And honey wild, and manna-dew

And sure in language strange she said

'I love thee true'

She took me to her elfin grot

And there she wept and sighed full sore

And there I shut her wild, wild eyes

With kisses four

And there she lulled me asleep

And there I dreamed - Ah, woe betide!

The latest dream I ever dreamt

On the cold hill side

I saw pale kings and princes too

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all

They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci

Hath thee in thrall!'

I saw their starved lips in the gloam

With horrid warning gaped wide

And I awoke and found me here

On the cold hill's side

And that is why I sojourn here

Alone and palely loitering

Though sedge is withered from the lake

And no birds sing