Oh what can ail thee,knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no bird sing.


Oh 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 lily on thy brow,
With unguish 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 looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.


I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing eles 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 lulled 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
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 withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.






Deception...