La Belle Dame sans Merci Puns

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered 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, And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever-dew, 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, And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet moan

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.

She found me roots of relish sweet, 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 sighed full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep, And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!— The latest dream I ever dreamt On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci Thee hath in thrall!’

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, Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing.

I'm trying to write a preludial song to Keats's great ballad. But I don't know what exactly the lyrics should be. There are many possibilities as for how this could be done (so many that I'm too lazy to name any of them), and I'm struggling figuring out the best possible way.

The best possible way would, for my purposes, be lyrics that influence the listener's interpretation the least, while simultaneously being appropriate for purposes of introducing the poem itself, as well as still being a great song.

Here's what I've got for the melody. It's currently just a fragment. In the video is me vocalizing it, and then the same fragment being played on the piano. It's very likely there will be melody before and after this little fragment. But I feel like I should put words to it before I expand it, because that will result in me having more freedom, I'd say.

Also, this song will be for a female voice, so the pitches on the piano keys are the ones in the correct octaves.

Ten syllables, eight syllables, then nine syllables... what can be done? As I said, there are so many possibilities...

Here's the text of the poem.

Okay, so I know a lot of Stereoplasm replacement packages finally arrived for folks in the last couple weeks, mine included, and everyone’s probably working through them still, but I’m hoping a few of y’all have gotten some stuff from the autumn collection already and might be willing to share some initial thoughts? I’ve been trying to keep an eye in Indies of the Day, but haven’t seen any pop up yet, so maybe it’s still a little early for stuff to have arrived. But since now I actually know I like Stereoplasm I’m planning an order for later this month and I want to narrow it down a bit (or expand it, I guess if something seems amazing that I hadn’t considered!) And I figured since they were kind enough to include free samples of the La Belle Dame Sans Merci collection, I would go ahead and get the fall ball rolling by sharing my thoughts on those! (All the other ones I got were collections that aren’t available anymore, but if you want to know about ‘em, I’ll list them at the end and feel free to ask me)

These all rested about 4 days before I started testing, and of course everyone’s nose/skin are different. These all had a medium to low throw for me, and lasted decently well to about the 4-6 hour mark before getting faint or disappearing (I’m not great with keeping track of the time, sorry!)

His Heart to Drink (Sour blackberries, lodestone, deer musk, willow oak, copper, faded cologne and silver crucifix.)

Wet: berries that are only juuust sour, musk, the sharp/bright tang of cologne/metal.

Dry: the berries and musk are the most forward part of this, but they blend nicely, and it has a little bit of a woodsy edge to it as well. The metallic tang comes and goes for me throughout the wear.

Verdict: Surprisingly not as Manly as I would have thought, but this definitely presents a smell that might just be the way a person could naturally smell after a day outside? Working with metal? A little sour musky, a little woodsy, but still pleasantly so. It’s just very human. Perhaps a person who has gone out to do their fall ritual work in a patch that used to be berries…?

Rubies From Your Lips (Twilight musk, smoked woodsage, carnation corsage, holy water, green clove, damp soil and grave moss.)

Wet: Spicy sweet carnation and musk to start, but some soil/moss comes in pretty quickly along with the smoky notes of burning sage.

Dry: So the musk and/or soil has a kinda sickly sweet undertone to it which fits the vibe of La Belle Dame, though

I read this the other day and it reminded me a lot of my prior relationship and so many other harrowing and heart-breaking stories i've read on here.

As described by Wikipedia:

>Considered an English classic, the poem is an example of Keats' poetic preoccupation with love and death.[2] The poem is about a fairy who condemns a knight to an unpleasant fate after she seduces him with her eyes and singing.

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,

Alone and palely loitering;

The sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel's granary is full,

And the harvest's done.

I see a lilly on thy brow,

With anguish moist and fever dew;

And on thy cheek 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,

And her eyes were wild.

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.

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

She found me roots of relish sweet,

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 gazed and sighed deep,

And there I shut her wild sad eyes—

So kissed to sleep.

And there we slumbered on the moss,

And there I dreamed, ah woe betide,

The latest dream I ever dreamed

On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings, and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

Who cried—"La belle Dame sans merci

Hath thee in thrall!"

I saw their starved lips in the gloam

With horrid warning gaped wide,

And I awoke, and found me here

On the cold hill side.

And this is why I sojourn here

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

I'm trying to write a preludial song to Keats's great ballad. But I don't know what exactly the lyrics should be. There are many possibilities as for how this could be done (so many that I'm too lazy to name any of them), and I'm struggling figuring out the best possible way.

The best possible way would, for my purposes, be lyrics that influence the listener's interpretation the least, while simultaneously being appropriate for purposes of introducing the poem itself, as well as still being a great song.

Here's what I've got for the melody. It's currently just a fragment. In the video is me vocalizing it, and then the same fragment being played on the piano. It's very likely there will be melody before and after this little fragment. But I feel like I should put words to it before I expand it, because that will result in me having more freedom, I'd say.

Also, this song will be for a female voice, so the pitches on the piano keys are the ones in the correct octaves.

Ten syllables, eight syllables, then nine syllables... what can be done? As I said, there are so many possibilities...

Here's the text of the poem.

O, what can ail thee, knight at arms,
Alone and palely loitering;
The sedge has withered 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,
And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
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,
And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone,
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

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,
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 gazed and sighed full sore:
And there I shut her wild, wild eyes
With kisses four.

And there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dreamed, ah woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dreamed
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all:
They cry'd - "La belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!"

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

And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered 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,

And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow,

With anguish moist and fever-dew,

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,

And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan

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.

She found me roots of relish sweet,

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 sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,

And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—

The latest dream I ever dreamt

On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci

Thee hath in thrall!’

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,

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered 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,

And the harvest's done.

 

I see a lily on thy brow,

With anguish moist and fever-dew,

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,

And her eyes were wild.

 

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

 

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.

 

She found me roots of relish sweet,

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 sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

 

And there she lullèd me asleep,

And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—

The latest dream I ever dreamt

On the cold hill side.

 

I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci

Thee hath in thrall!’

 

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,

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered 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,

And the harvest’s done.

.

I see a lily on thy brow,

With anguish moist and fever-dew,

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,

And her eyes were wild.

.

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan

.

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.

.

She found me roots of relish sweet,

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 sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

.

And there she lullèd me asleep,

And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—

The latest dream I ever dreamt

On the cold hill side.

.

I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci

Thee hath in thrall!’

.

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,

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.