| On either side of the river lie
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| Long fields of barley and of rye
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| That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
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| And thro' the field the road run by
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| To many-towered Camelot;
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| And up and down the people go
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| Gazing where the lilies flow
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| Round an island there below
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| The island of Shalott
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| Willows whiten, aspens quiver
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| Little breezes dusk and shiver
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| Thro' the wave that runs for ever
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| By the island in the river
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| Flowing down to Camelot
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| Four grey walls, and four grey towers
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| Overlook a space of flowers
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| And the silent isle embowers
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| The Lady of Shalott
|
| Only reapers, reaping early
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| In among the bearded barley
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| Hear a song that echoes cheerly
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| From the river winding clearly
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| Down to tower’d Camelot;
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| And by the moon the reaper weary
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| Piling sheaves in uplands airy
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| Listening, whispers «'tis the fairy
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| The Lady of Shalott.»
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| There she weaves by night and day
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| A magic web with colours gay
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| She has heard a whisper say
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| A curse is on her if she stay
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| To look down to Camelot
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| She knows not what the curse may be
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| And so she weaveth steadily
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| And little other care hath she
|
| The Lady of Shalott
|
| And moving through a mirror clear
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| That hangs before her all the year
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| Shadows of the world appear
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| There she sees the highway near
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| Winding down to Camelot;
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| And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
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| The knights come riding two and two
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| She hath no loyal knight and true
|
| The Lady Of Shalott
|
| But in her web she still delights
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| To weave the mirror’s magic sights
|
| For often thro' the silent nights
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| A funeral, with plumes and lights
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| And music, went to Camelot;
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| Or when the moon was overhead
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| Came two young lovers lately wed
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| «I am half sick of shadows,» she said
|
| The Lady Of Shalott
|
| A bow-shot from her bower-eaves
|
| He rode between the barley sheaves
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| The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves
|
| And flamed upon the brazen greaves
|
| Of bold Sir Lancelot
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| A red-cross knight for ever kneel’d
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| To a lady in his shield
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| That sparkled on the yellow field
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| Beside remote Shalott
|
| His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d;
|
| On burnish’d hooves his war-horse trode;
|
| From underneath his helmet flow’d
|
| His coal-black curls as on he rode
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| As he rode down to Camelot
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| From the bank and from the river
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| He flashed into the crystal mirror
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| «Tirra Lirra,» by the river
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| Sang Sir Lancelot
|
| She left the web, she left the loom
|
| She made three paces thro' the room
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| She saw the water-lily bloom
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| She saw the helmet and the plume
|
| She looked down to Camelot
|
| Out flew the web and floated wide;
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| The mirror cracked from side to side;
|
| «The curse is come upon me,» cried
|
| The Lady of Shalott
|
| In the stormy east-wind straining
|
| The pale yellow woods were waning
|
| The broad stream in his banks complaining
|
| Heavily the low sky raining
|
| Over towered Camelot;
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| Down she came and found a boat
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| Beneath a willow left afloat
|
| And round about the prow she wrote
|
| The Lady of Shalott
|
| And down the river’s dim expanse
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| Like some bold seer in a trance
|
| Seeing all his own mischance —
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| With a glassy countenance
|
| Did she look to Camelot
|
| And at the closing of the day
|
| She loosed the chain and down she lay;
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| The broad stream bore her far away
|
| The Lady of Shalott
|
| Heard a carol, mournful, holy
|
| Chanted loudly, chanted lowly
|
| Till her blood was frozen slowly
|
| And her eyes were darkened wholly
|
| Turn’d to towered Camelot
|
| For ere she reach’d upon the tide
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| The first house by the water-side
|
| Singing in her song she died
|
| The Lady of Shalott
|
| Under tower and balcony
|
| By garden-wall and gallery
|
| A gleaming shape she floated by
|
| Dead-pale between the houses high
|
| Silent into Camelot
|
| Out upon the wharfs they came
|
| Knight and burgher, lord and dame
|
| And round the prow they read her name
|
| The Lady of Shalott
|
| Who is this? |
| And what is here?
|
| And in the lighted palace near
|
| Died the sound of royal cheer;
|
| And they crossed themselves for fear
|
| All the knights at Camelot;
|
| But Lancelot mused a little space
|
| He said, «She has a lovely face;
|
| God in his mercy lend her grace
|
| The Lady of Shalott.» |