John Keats: La Belle Dame sans Merci

Album cover art for "John Keats: La Belle Dame sans Merci" by Robert Harris

Robert Harris - Pop

John Keats: La Belle Dame sans Merci

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Duration: 4:07

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Lyrics

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered 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; Shе looked at me as she did lovе 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 lullèd 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 Thee hath in thrall!' I saw their starved lips in the gloam With horrid warning gapèd 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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Credits

Writers
  • John Keats