La Belle Dame Sans Merci

I

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

   Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered from the lake,

   And no birds sing!

II

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.

III

I see a lily on thy brow,

   With anguish moist and fever-dew,

And on thy cheek a fading rose

   Fast withereth too.

IV

I met a lady in the meads

   Full beautiful, a fairy's child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

   And her eyes were wild.

V

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.

VI

I set her on my pacing steed,

   And nothing else saw all day long;

For sidelong would she bend, and sing

   A fairy's song.

VII

She found me roots of relish sweet,

   And honey wild, and manna dew;

And sure in language strange she said,

   'I love thee true'.

VIII

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.

IX

And there she lulled me asleep,

   And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!

The latest dream I ever dreamt

   On the cold hill side.

X

I saw pale kings, and princes too,

   Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried—'La belle Dame sans merci

   Thee hath in thrall!'

XI

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.

XII

And this is why I sojourn here,

   Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

   And no birds sing.