Part
I
On either side the river
lie
Long fields of barley and of
rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the
sky;
And through the field the road run
by
To many-tower'd
Camelot;
And up and down the people
go,
Gazing where the lilies
blow
Round an island there
below,
The island of
Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens
quiver,
Little breezes dusk and
shiver
Through 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.
By the margin, willow
veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges
trail'd
By slow horses; and
unhail'd
The shallop flitteth
silken-sail'd
Skimming down to
Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her
hand?
Or at the casement seen her
stand?
Or is she known in all the
land,
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."
Part
II
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:
There the river eddy
whirls,
And there the surly village
churls,
And the red cloaks of market
girls
Pass onward from
Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels
glad,
An abbot on an ambling
pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd
lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson
clad
Goes by to tower'd
Camelot;
And sometimes through 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 through 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.
Part
III
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.
The gemmy bridle glitter'd
free,
Like to some branch of stars we
see
Hung in the golden
Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang
merrily
As he rode down to
Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric
slung
A mighty silver bugle
hung,
And as he rode his armor
rung
Beside remote
Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded
weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the
saddle-leather,
The helmet and the
helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame
together,
As he rode down to
Camelot.
As often thro' the purple
night,
Below the starry clusters
bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning
bright,
Moves over still
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 down 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 through the
room,
She saw the water-lily
bloom,
She saw the helmet and the
plume,
She look'd down to
Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated
wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to
side;
"The curse is come upon me,"
cried
The Lady of
Shalott.
Part
IV
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 tower'd
Camelot;
Down she came and found a
boat
Beneath a willow left
afloat,
And around 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.
Lying, robed in snowy
white
That loosely flew to left and right
--
The leaves upon her falling light
--
Thro' the noises of the
night,
She floated down to
Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound
along
The willowy hills and fields
among,
They heard her singing her last
song,
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 tower'd
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.


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