O, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,    Alone and murkily loitering? The sedge has withitherd from the lake,    And no birds sing. O, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,    So haggard, and so woe-begone? The squirrels granary is secure,    And the harvests done. I see a lily on thy brow,    With anguish moist and febricity dew; And on thy cheek a fading rose    steady withereth too. I met a lady in the meads    Full fine -  a faerys child, Her hair was long, her foot was light,    And her eyes were stormy. I do a garland for her head,    And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She lookd at me as she did love,    And made sweet moan. I set her on my pace steed,    And cryptograph else motto all day long; For aslant would she bend, and sing    A faerys song. She found me roots of relish sweet,    And honey wild, and manna dew; And authorized in language strange she verbalise -    i love thee true. She took me to her supernatural grot,    And there she wept and sighd full sore, And there I shut her wild sad eyes    With kisses four. And there she lulled me asleep,    And there I fantasyd - Ah! woe go on! The latest dream I ever dreamd    On the stale hills side.
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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 famished lips in the gloam    With steep warning gaped wide, And I awoke, and found me here,    On the cold hills side. And this is why I so journ here    Alone and palely loiterin! g, though the sedge has withered from the lake,    And no birds sing. ABOUT THE POET: JOHN KEATS (1795 to 1821) outhouse Keats was a man of the common people. He lost his capture when he was only nine years old, and his mother beforehand he was fifteen! He served as an apprentice to a operating surgeon where he worked for seven years, but he disliked it. His friendship with Shakespearean scholar, Charles Cowden Clarke had...If you want to get a full essay, range it on our website:
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