V

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.

VI

I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery's song.

VII

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
"I love thee true."

VIII

She took me to her elfin grot,

And there she wept, and sigh'd full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

IX

And there she lulled me asleep,

And there I dream'd-Ah! woe betide

The latest dream I ever dream'd

On the cold hill's side.

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."

XI

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here

On the cold hill's side.

XII

And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

JOHN KEATS.

LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY

Love is like understanding, that grows bright,
Gazing on many truths.

SHELLEY.

Sometimes thou seem'st not as thyself alone,
But as the meaning of all things that are.

D. G. ROSSETTI.

Gather, therefore, the rose while yet is prime,
For soon comes age, that will his pride deflower :
Gather the rose of love while yet is time.

SPENSER.