A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading

La Belle Dame Sans Merci
Frank Cadogan Cowper, 1926

La Belle Dame Sans Merci
John Keats (1795-1821)

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
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 set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery’s song.

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.

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 gazed and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild, sad eyes–
So kissed to sleep.

And there we slumbered on the moss,
And there I dreamed, ah! woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dreamed
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who 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 that is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

* * * *

The Bloggers’ (Silent) Poetry Reading invitation/information can be found here. This year I offer a ballad, my personal favorite poetic form. Thanks, Jodi, for reminding me of it today.

1 Comment

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One response to “A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading

  1. This one is so like your own songs, beautiful and a little desolate with some lingering tragedy. I’m not surprised it speaks to you.

    I took a departure this year and, for the first time, posted someone not Canadian and not living. Bet the people who freaked out 2 years ago when I posted the Sky Gilbert (top five fave poems ever, that one) won’t say boo about the fact that my poem this year describes a RAPE.

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