February 2012
32 posts
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Feb 1st
94 notes
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Feb 1st
23 notes
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Feb 1st
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La Belle Dame sans merci, by John Keats-
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,     Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the lake,     And no birds sing. Oh 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. ...
Feb 1st
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January 2012
22 posts
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Jan 24th
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Jan 24th
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Jan 24th
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Jan 24th
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Jan 23rd
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Jan 22nd
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Jan 22nd
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Jan 22nd
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Jan 22nd
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Jan 22nd
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Jan 18th
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Jan 17th
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Jan 3rd
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Jan 3rd
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Jan 3rd
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Jan 3rd
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Jan 3rd
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Jan 3rd
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