La Belle Dame Sans Merci

And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill 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.


I love this poem. And how Ben Whishaw reads it.

probably the weirdest John Keats illustration I've ever made. (but it's not last one , I promise)
gold gold gold gold.


I love those two suicides in the air. -> Needle In The Hay

ink. pencils. white,black,golden markers.

[link] - on tumblr