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I.
O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms, |
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Alone and palely loitering? |
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The sedge has wither’d from the lake, |
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And no birds sing. |
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II.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms! |
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So haggard and so woe-begone? |
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The squirrel’s granary is full, |
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And the harvest’s done. |
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III.
I see a lily on thy brow |
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With anguish moist and fever dew, |
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And on thy cheeks a fading rose |
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Fast withereth too. |
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IV.
I met a lady in the meads, |
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Full beautiful—a faery’s child, |
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Her hair was long, her foot was light, |
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And her eyes were wild. |
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V.
I made a garland for her head, |
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And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; |
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She look’d at me as she did love, |
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And made sweet moan. |
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VI.
I set her on my pacing steed, |
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And nothing else saw all day long, |
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For sidelong would she bend, and sing |
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A faery’s song. |
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VII.
She found me roots of relish sweet, |
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And honey wild, and manna dew, |
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And sure in language strange she said— |
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“I love thee true.” |
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VIII.
She took me to her elfin grot, |
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And there she wept, and sigh’d fill sore, |
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And there I shut her wild wild eyes |
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With kisses four. |
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IX.
And there she lulled me asleep, |
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And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide! |
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The latest dream I ever dream’d |
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On the cold hill’s side. |
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X.
I saw pale kings and princes too, |
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Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; |
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They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci |
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Hath thee in thrall!” |
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XI.
I saw their starved lips in the gloam, |
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With horrid warning gaped wide, |
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And I awoke and found me here, |
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On the cold hill’s side. |
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XII.
And this is why I sojourn here, |
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Alone and palely loitering, |
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Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake, |
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And no birds sing.
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