"O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered 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 cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s (spawn),
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild."

-La Belle Dame sans Merci, John Keats

Wanna see me bend over and spread everything for you? Tip me 3$ and shoot me a message 😘

Custom content available~