Talk:Analyser

In optics, a circular polarizer used "backwards" is also an analyser. Perhaps an optics person can help fill this out?

A poem

Poetry Magazine October 2024Subscribe Subscribe

By John Keats O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

      Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered from the lake,

      And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

      So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel’s granary is full,

      And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow,

      With anguish moist and fever-dew,

And on thy cheeks a fading rose

      Fast withereth too.

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 looked 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 sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

      With kisses four.

And there she lullèd 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

      Thee hath in thrall!’

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,

      With horrid warning gapèd 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 withered from the lake,

      And no birds sing. 212.237.123.58 (talk) 19:06, 29 October 2024 (UTC)

What is the answer 212.237.123.58 (talk) 19:06, 29 October 2024 (UTC)