I never wrote you a love song
somehow words could not express what i needed to say.
and so i never wrote you a love song
and now its much, much too late 'cause you've gone away
But i will build this monument
to remember all the love we once had
and i'll close my eyes and make it how it used to be
i swear i never stopped loving you with everything i am
and it hurts so much to think you stopped loving me
you stopped loving me...
So i wish i'd had written you a love song
and somehow you understood what it feels to be me
because the angel loves the sprite forever
and does it unconditionally
But i will build this monument
to remember all the love we once had
and i'll close my eyes and make it how it used to be
i swear i never stopped loving you with everything i am
and it hurts so much to think you stopped loving me
you stopped loving me...
(excerpt from la belle dame sans merci by w.b. keats - 1819)
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 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'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!"
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
with horrid warning gaped 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.