La Belle Dame sans Merci

O what can ail thee, Knight at arms,
  Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the Lake
  And no birds sing!

O what can ail thee, Knight at arms,
  So haggard, and so woebegone?
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 the 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 lulléd 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 gapéd 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 is withered from the Lake
    And no birds sing.''