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JOHN KEATS
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.
��640 La Belle Dame sans Merci
WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering ? The sedge is wither'd from the lake, And no birds sing.
��o
��C 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 cheek a fading rose Fast withercth too.'
- 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.
C I 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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