The battle field was smothered with blood.

My friend had lost his head.

I got up and walked between the bodies.

My sobs were dearly meant.

The artillery smoke hung like a haze;

how many men would go to graves?

I was lucky, I was still alive.

No more battle for me to ride.

I saw her then from in the smoke.

Lovely, she took my hand but never spoke.

She led me past a field away;

full of flowers and birds this day.

I leaned back in the tall sweet grass.

She stroked my head like no other lass.

Her beauty went beyond any words.

Her body like a goddess , she broke my fears.

Something so lovely to come out of death.

Her lips like wine, sweet was her breath.

She pulled me up and nodded away;

a place to go where we might stay.

She lead me past the battle field;

down a hill and into wall of hay,

beyond was a graveyard and an open grave.

She kissed me sadly, tears in her eyes.

La Belle Dame Sans Merci had let me die.



Read more: http://authspot.com/poetry/lady-of-death/#ixzz0tUzsE8rK