La belle dame sans merci

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 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 sideways she would lean, 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 lull'd me asleep
And there I dream'd -- Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill's side

I saw pale kings and princes too
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cried -- "La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!"

I saw their starved lips in the gloom
With horrid warning gaping 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 wither'd from the lake
And no birds sing