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 lilly on thy brow,
With anquish 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 gaz'd and sighed deep;
And there I shut her wild sad eyes -
So kiss'd to sleep.

And there we slumber'd on the moss,
And there I dream'd - Ah woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream'd
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
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 has wither'd from the lake
And no birds sing.