                                      1816
                       LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI: A BALLAD
                                 by John Keats

                        I.

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

                       II.

        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.

                      III.

        I see a lilly on thy brow,
          With anguish moist and fever dew;
        And on thy cheeks a fading rose
          Fast withereth too.

                       IV.

        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.

                        V.

        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.

                       VI.

        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.

                      VII.

        She found me roots of relish sweet,
          And honey wild, and manna dew,
        And sure in language strange she said-
         "I love thee true."

                     VIII.

        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.

                       IX.

        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.

                        X.

        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!"

                       XI.

        I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam,
          With horrid warning gaped wide,
        And I awoke and found me here,
          On the cold hill's side.

                      XII.

        And this is why I sojourn here
          Alone and palely loitering,
        Though the sedge has wither'd from the lake,
          And no birds sing.


                        THE END
