East o' the Sun, West o' the Moon 
They all must go who'd find her boon. 
(La Belle Dame Sans Mercy!) 

West o' the Moon, East o' the Sun, 
Thither are many roads that run, 
But the right road is the only one. 
(La Belle Dame Sans Mercy!) 

Her heart (woe's me!) is locked and cold- 
A secret chamber filled with gold. 
(La Belle Dame Sans Mercy!) 

Straight as a lily-wand is she, 
Her face is pale as lilies be, 
Her brown hair floweth to her knee. 
(La Belle Dame Sans Mercy!) 

Her hands are idle hands and white, 
They spin nor weave by day or night. 
(La Belle Dame Sans Mercy!) 

And yet those slender hands, God wot, 
Have dug graves in her garden plot 
'Neath tangles of forget-me-not. 
(La Belle Dame Sans Mercy!) 

There is no Saint in Paradise 
Bends brows above such holy eyes. 
(La Belle Dame Sans Mercy!) 

And be her eyes or blue or grey, 
There lives no man on earth to say, 
Yet her eyes draw men's souls away 
(La Belle Dame Sans Mercy!) 

And who dare kiss her on the mouth 
Knows no more hunger, no more drouth. 
(La Belle Dame Sans Mercy!) 

And whoso she hath kissed again 
Is blest among all other men: 
But Heaven's gate shuts him agen 
And La Belle Dame Sans Mercy. 

River! that in silence windest
Through the meadows, bright and free,
Till at length thy rest thou findest
In the bosom of the sea!

Four long years of mingled feeling,
Half in rest, and half in strife,
I have seen thy waters stealing
Onward, like the stream of life.

Thou hast taught me, Silent River!
Many a lesson, deep and long;
Thou hast been a generous giver;
I can give thee but a song.

Oft in sadness and in illness,
I have watched thy current glide,
Till the beauty of its stillness
Overflowed me, like a tide.

And in better hours and brighter,
When I saw thy waters gleam,
I have felt my heart beat lighter,
And leap onward with thy stream.

Not for this alone I love thee,
Nor because thy waves of blue
From celestial seas above thee
Take their own celestial hue.

Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee,
And thy waters disappear,
Friends I love have dwelt beside thee,
And have made thy margin dear.

More than this;—thy name reminds me
Of three friends, all true and tried;
And that name, like magic, binds me
Closer, closer to thy side.

Friends my soul with joy remembers!
How like quivering flames they start,
When I fan the living embers
On the hearth-stone of my heart!

'T is for this, thou Silent River!
That my spirit leans to thee;
Thou hast been a generous giver,
Take this idle song from me.