Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, <br />Alone and palely loitering? <br />The sedge has withered from the lake, <br />And no birds sing. <br /> <br />Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, <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 cheeks 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 light, <br />And her eyes were wild. <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 />I set her on my pacing steed, <br />And nothing else saw all day long, <br />For sidelong would she bend, and sing <br />A faery's song. <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 wept and sighed full sore, <br />And there I shut her wild wild eyes <br />With kisses four. <br /> <br />And there she lulled me asleep <br />And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! - <br />The latest dream I ever dreamt <br />On the cold hill side. <br /> <br />I saw pale kings and princes too, <br />Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; <br />They 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's side. <br /> <br />And this 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-original-version/
