La belle dame sans merci - Mark Bradshaw

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 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 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 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 sigh'd full sore

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four

And there she lulled me asleep

And there I dream'd

Ah Woe betide

The latest dream I ever dreamt

On the cold hill's 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 starv'd 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 wither'd from the Lake

And no birds sing