V I made a garland for her head, And made sweet moan. VI 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. VII She found me roots of relish sweet, VIII She took me to her elfin grot, And there she wept, and sigh'd full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four. IX 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. X 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." XI I saw their starved lips in the gloam, On the cold hill's side. XII And this is why I sojourn here, Though the sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing. JOHN KEATS. LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY Love is like understanding, that grows bright, SHELLEY. Sometimes thou seem'st not as thyself alone, D. G. ROSSETTI. Gather, therefore, the rose while yet is prime, SPENSER. |