I Cannot See What Flowers Are At

Oh What Can Ail Thee, Knight-at-arms, Alone And Palely Loitering?

Thou, Silent Form, Dost Tease Us Out Of Thought As Doth Eternity.

Even Bees, The Little Almsmen Of Spring Bowers, Know There Is Richest Juice In Poison-flowers.

I Don't Need The Stars In The Night I Found My Treasure All I Need Is You By My Side So Shine Forever

And There Shall Be For Thee All Soft Delight That Shadowy Thought Can Win, A Bright Torch, And A Casement Ope At Night, To Let The Warm Love In!