Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight, <br /> Alone and palely loitering? <br />The sedge is withered from the lake, <br /> And no birds sing. <br /> <br />Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight, <br /> So haggard and so woe-begone <br />The squirrel's granary is full, <br /> And the harvest's done. <br /> <br />I see a lily on thy brow <br /> With anguish moist and fever dew, <br />And on thy cheek a fading rose <br /> Fast withereth too. <br /> <br />I met a lady in the meads, <br /> Full beautiful, a faery's child: <br />Her hair was long, her foot was ligh, <br /> And her eyes were wild. <br /> <br />I set her on my pacing steed, <br /> And nothing else saw all day long; <br />For sideways would she lean, and sing <br /> A faery's song. <br /> <br />I made a garland for her head, <br /> And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; <br />She looked at me as she did love, <br /> And made sweet moan. <br /> <br />She found me roots of relish sweet, <br /> And honey wild, and manna dew, <br />And sure in language strange she said, <br /> "I love thee true!" <br /> <br />She took me to her elfin grot, <br /> And there she gazed and sighed deep, <br />And there I shut her wild, sad eyes--- <br /> So kissed to sleep. <br /> <br />And there we slumbered on the moss, <br /> And there I dreamed, ah! woe betide, <br />The latest dream I ever dreamed <br /> On the cold hill side. <br /> <br />I saw pale kings, and princes too, <br /> Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; <br />Who cried---"La belle Dame sans merci <br /> Hath thee in thrall!" <br /> <br />I saw their starved lips in the gloam, <br /> With horrid warning gaped wide, <br />And I awoke and found me here, <br /> On the cold hill side. <br /> <br />And that is why I sojourn here, <br /> Alone and palely loitering, <br />Though the sedge is withered from the lake, <br /> And no birds sing.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/la-belle-dame-sans-merci/
