songesoleil:The Blue Poetry Book.1912. Edited by Andrew Lang. Art by Lancelot Speed. LA BELLE DAME S
songesoleil:The Blue Poetry Book.1912.Edited by Andrew Lang.Art by Lancelot Speed.LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY.Ah ! What can ail thee, wretched wight, Alone and palely loitering ?The sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing.Ah ! What can ail thee, wretched wight, 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 cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful - a fairy’s child ;Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long ;For sideways would she lead and sing A fairy’s song.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.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 gazed and sighèd deep,And there I shut her wild sad eyes - So kissed to sleep.And there we slumbered on the moss, And there I dreamed, ah ! woe betide,The latest dream I ever dreamed, On the cold hill-side.I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors - death-pale were they all ; Who cried, “La Belle Dame Sans Mercy Hath thee in thrall !”I saw their starved lips in the gloom, With horrid warning gapèd wide ;And I awoke, and found me here On the cold hill-side.And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering :Though the sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing.J. KEATS. -- source link
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