Work Text:
O what does ail thee, gentle dove,
Alone and palely loitering?
The lake has built its frosted coat,
And no birds sing.
O what does ail thee, gentle dove,
So solemn and so dis-hearted
The forest sways with branches bare
And skies have darkened.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and spotted dew,
on thy cheeks a fading poppy
Fast withereth too.
I met a fellow in the caves,
Full beautiful—an angel's child,
His hair was gold, his smile divine,
And his eyes were wild.
I made a garland for his head,
Bouquets, and then a ring so bright;
He looked at me as he did love,
And held me tight
I treated all his aching wounds,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would he blab, and sing
A canary’s song.
He found me canes of sugar sweet,
Alliances, and cattle too,
And in a manner coy he said—
‘I love thee true’.
He took me to his floral glade,
And there he wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut his wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there he lullèd me asleep,
And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the meadow's side.
I saw red kings and soldiers too,
Cruel warriors, ruthless were all;
They cried—‘Ce petit canari,
tonight shall fall!’
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With gnawing hunger, crimson-eyed
And I awoke and found me here,
On the meadow’s side.
And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
For the lake has built its frosted coat,
And no birds sing.