JOHN KEATS

Ah ! would 'twere so with many

A gentle girl and boy ! But were there ever any

Writhed not at passed joy ? To know the change and feel it, When there is none to heal it, Nor numbed sense to steal it, Was never said in rhyme.

��63$. La Belle T)ame sans Mem

^ C\ WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

^-^ Alone and palely loitering ? The sedge is wither'd 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,

��' I see a lily on thy brow

With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.'

1 1 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.

1 1 made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone ; She look'd at me as she did love, And made sweet moan.

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