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John Keats - La Belle Dame Sans Merci (Original version )
Work rating: Medium

	Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
	    Alone and palely loitering?
	The sedge has withered from the lake,
	    And no birds sing.

	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.

	I see a lily on thy brow,
	    With anguish moist and fever-dew,
	And on thy cheeks 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 looked 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 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.

	And there she lulled me asleep
	    And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -
	The latest dream I ever dreamt
	    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 gloam,
	    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 is withered from the lake,
	    And no birds sing.
	 
	 
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