I was feeling
under the weather because all the sedge had withered
from the lake and I'd got a nasty cough as usual. And then the La Belle Dame Sans Merci had invited me to her annual Christmas party. I don't normally like parties because I always end up just standing in the corner alone and palely loitering all the time, but I forced myself to venture out anyway, despite feeling so haggard and woe-begone, otherwise I'd never hear the end of it.
It was a bring your own booze affair, and so I brought a bottle of Manna Dew, which is a
bit like an Elfin version of eggnog. Anyway, I go in the front door and there she was,
La Belle Dame Sans Merci in the meads - where else! - with her long
hair, light feet and wild eyes.
"Thanks for coming." she said, giving
me kisses four. "I've just got to check on my other guests and then I'll
come back and have you in my thrall."
"Where do you want me to put this?" I said, indicating my bottle of Manna Dew.
"How
wonderful." La Belle Dame said. "Just put it on the table with the Relish Sweet
and the Honey Wild." But I could tell that what she was actually thinking was: 'Oh Christ.
Not another bottle of Manna Dew.'
Anyway, she left and I wandered around the fragrant room, checking out her Christmas garlands, and then her CD collection, which contained lots of faery song, as you might expect.
La Belle Dame came back a few minutes later carrying a big box tied-up with ribbon. "Happy Christmas," she said. "I got it from that Endymion store in the mall. Hope you like it."
I unwrapped the parcel and opened the box. Inside was a Grecian urn, one of those ones whose shape is haunted by leaf-fringed legends from the dales of Arcady.
"It's the unravished bride of quietness model," La Belle Dame explained. "With an extra foster child of silence and slow time added on."
"Gosh. Thanks." I said. "It's just what I've always wanted."
There was an awkward pause before La Belle Dame growled, "Didn't you get me anything?"
"Er...no."
I saw her starved lips in the gloam with horrid warning gaping wide, and then I awoke and found me here, on the cold hill side. The sedge has withered from the lake and no Christmas carolers sing.
See also Ode On A Grecian Funerary Urn
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