IV 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. V 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. 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!' XII And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake, And no birds sing.

"La Belle Dame Sans Merci"-John Keats