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 John Keats)
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 look’d 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 sigh’d fill sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dream’d-Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream’d
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 wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.