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O what can thee, knight at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering
I see a lily
on thy brow
And on thy cheeks
a fading rose
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;
I set her on
my pacing steed,
And no
birds sing.
On the cold
hill’s side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
And there she lulled me asleep
And ther I dreamed - Ah woe Betide! -