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O what can ail thee, knight at arms,
|
Alone and palely loitering?
|
The sedge has wither'd from the lake
|
And no birds sing.
|
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O what can ail the, knight at arms
|
So haggard and so woe-begone?
|
The squirrel's granary is full,
|
And the harvest done.
|
|
I see a lily on thy brow,
|
With anguish moist and fever dew,
|
And on thy cheek 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 tool me in 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 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 starved lips in the gloom,
|
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.
|
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-----------------
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La Belle Dame Sans Merci
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| Board |
