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 fill 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 dream�d
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 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 wither�d from the lake,
And no birds sing.

Ganglion