|
On either side of the river lie |
|
Long fields of barley and of rye, |
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That clothe the world 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, |
|
Gazing where the lilies blow |
|
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 |
|
Thro' the wave that runs for ever |
|
By the island in the river |
|
Flowing down to Camelot. |
|
Four grey walls, and four grey towers, |
|
Overlook a space of flowers, |
|
And the silent isle imbowers |
|
The Lady of Shalott. |
|
Only reapers, reaping early, |
|
In among the bearded barley |
|
Hear a song that echoes cheerly |
|
From the river winding clearly |
|
Down to tower'd Camelot; |
|
And by the moon the reaper weary, |
|
Piling sheaves in uplands airy, |
|
Listening, whispers "'tis the fairy |
|
The Lady of Shalott." |
|
There she weaves by night and day |
|
A magic web with colours gay, |
|
She has heard a whisper say, |
|
A curse is on her if she stay |
|
To look down to Camelot. |
|
She knows not what the curse may be, |
|
And so she weaveth steadily, |
|
And little other care hath she, |
|
The Lady of Shalott. |
|
And moving through a mirror clear |
|
That hangs before her all the year, |
|
Shadows of the world appear. |
|
There she sees the highway near |
|
Winding down to Camelot; |
|
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue |
|
The Knights come riding two and two. |
|
She hath no loyal Knight and true, |
|
The Lady Of Shalott. |
|
But in her web she still delights |
|
To weave the mirror's magic sights, |
|
For often thro' the silent nights |
|
A funeral, with plumes and lights |
|
And music, went to Camelot; |
|
Or when the Moon was overhead, |
|
Came two young lovers lately wed. |
|
"I am half sick of shadows," said |
|
The Lady Of Shalott. |
|
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, |
|
He rode between the barley sheaves, |
|
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, |
|
And flamed upon the brazen greaves |
|
Of bold Sir Lancelot. |
|
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd |
|
To a lady in his shield, |
|
That sparkled on the yellow field, |
|
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, |
|
As he rode back to Camelot. |
|
From the bank and from the river |
|
He flashed into the crystal mirror, |
|
"Tirra Lirra," by the river |
|
Sang Sir Lancelot. |
|
She left the web, she left the loom, |
|
She made three paces taro' the room, |
|
She saw the water-lily bloom, |
|
She saw the helmet and the plume, |
|
She looked down to Camelot. |
|
Out flew the web and floated wide; |
|
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; |
|
Down she came and found a boat |
|
Beneath a willow left afloat, |
|
And round about the prow she wrote |
|
The Lady of Shalott |
|
And down the river's dim expanse |
|
Like some bold seer in a trance, |
|
Seeing all his own mischance - |
|
With a glassy countenance |
|
Did she look to Camelot. |
|
And at the closing of the day |
|
She loosed the chain and down she lay; |
|
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 |
|
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." |
