With kisses four.
And there she lullèd 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