LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI
John Keats 1795-1821

O, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has wither'd from the lake,

And no birds sing.

O, 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 look'd 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 sigh'd full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

“And there she lulled me asleep

And there I dream'd! Ah! Woe betide!

The latest dream I ever dream'd

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 starv'd lips in the gloam,

With horrid warning gaped wide,

And I awoke and found me here,

On the cold hill's side.

“And this is why I sojourn here

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge has wither'd from the lake,

And no birds sing.”

-o0o-