La Belle Dame Sans Merci O, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? The sedge is 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 lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheek 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 sideways would she lean, 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 sad eyes With kisses four. And there she lulled me asleep, And there I dream'd --- 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 side. And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering; Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake, And no birds sing. -- John Keats This was my first Farie drawing. I used lots of detail in her wings and face but you can't see it that well because the computer distorted it so much. I am very please with her. Please comment and tell me what you think of her.