La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Unfortunately, I never seem to find enough time to read poetry, although when I do, I drift towards the Romantics like William Blake and John Keats. In fact, on of my favorite poets is the immortal John Keats.

wikipedia.org (William Hilton)

His poetry usually explores the beauty and sometimes sadness of nature. It is also wistful, and his poems depict a pure and innocent world - maybe one that does not even exist. His own life was anything but that which he aspired to in his work. He died at the tender age of 25 and his works were received badly by the critics. I imagine him as a young hero, for he had to endure alienation, poverty, and the death of his brother. Through all these obstacles, he wrote poetry, and did what he loved best. Instead of pursuing a steady medical career, he took upon himself the more dangerous path of a poet. 

  I feel angry when I find that most people have forgotten who Shakespeare was. I do not dare to ask whether they have read any Keats, for the answer would most likely make me froth in rage...

wikipedia.org (J.W. Waterhouse)

Anyways, this poem is beautiful. I have my own secret interpretation of this poem, but I will leave you to read it yourself. Do judge and tell me whether this poet deserves the highest praises.

'O 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,           5

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;            10

And on thy cheeks a fading rose 

Fast withereth too.' 

'I met a lady in the meads, 

Full beautiful—a faery's child, 

Her hair was long, her foot was light,        15

And her eyes were wild. 

'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.                             20

'I set her on my pacing steed 

And nothing else saw all day long, 

For sideways would she lean, and sing 

A faery's song. 

'She found me roots of relish sweet,          25

And honey wild and manna dew, 

And sure in language strange she said, 

"I love thee true!" 

'She took me to her elfin grot, 

And there she wept and sigh'd fill sore;    30

And there I shut her wild, wild eyes 

With kisses four. 

'And there she lullèd me asleep, 

And there I dream'd—Ah! woe betide! 

The latest dream I ever dream'd                35

On the cold hill's side. 

'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!"                                  40

'I saw their starved lips in the gloam 

With horrid warning gapèd wide, 

And I awoke and found me here, 

On the cold hill's side. 

'And this is why I sojourn here                45

Alone and palely loitering, 

Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake, 

And no birds sing.'

Oh my goodness. Beautiful. Ethereal. I love it. What do you think?

Now here is my private interpretation: There is a fairy maid who falls in love for the first time, although she has broken many hearts with her beauty. She tells her lover so  ("I love thee true!"), but she has a curse on herself; she cannot stay with him forever, she has to leave in the morning. Hating the thought of being separated, she cries about it (And there she wept and sigh'd fill sore;). So in this version of the story, she is not cruel. She is just tortured by her circumstances. She disappears because she has to...

Now, I hear all of you cry out "For shame, Kathleen! What are you doing twisting Keats' words to fit your tale? It doesn't even make sense. In the end of the poem, everyone denounces her. How can you make that fit inside your theory?"

And I will look at you with a sheepish grin, and with wide eyes say, "T'is true, too true...my imagination does run a little wild now and again. I always want fairies to be benevolent...She is too fair to be malevolent. I am listening...I'll stop this nonsense this very minute. I told you that it was my private interpretation...(smiles)"

Ahem...jokes aside. I do envision John Keats' poem as he would have...but sometimes, I do enjoy making up little backstories (broad grin).

Now...I hope that you fancied that little bit of Keats...and if you did, do read some others. There is a wonderful site www.john-keats.com where all his poems and his letters are available. 

Have a wonderful day,