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 else 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 lullèd 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 Thee hath in thrall!’ #photooftheday #photography #nikonphotography #belledamesansmerci #keats #johnkeats #art #ariel87 #photographyislife