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
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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
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The Lady of Shalott
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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
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The Lady Of Shalott
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But in her web she still delights
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To weave the mirror’s magic sights
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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
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The Lady Of Shalott
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A bow-shot from her bower-eaves
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He rode between the barley sheaves
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The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves
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And flamed upon the brazen greaves
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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
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His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d;
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On burnish’d hooves his war-horse trode;
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From underneath his helmet flow’d
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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
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She left the web, she left the loom
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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
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She looked down to Camelot
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Out flew the web and floated wide;
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The mirror cracked from side to side;
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«The curse is come upon me,» cried
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The Lady of Shalott
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In the stormy east-wind straining
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The pale yellow woods were waning
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The broad stream in his banks complaining
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Heavily the low sky raining
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Over towered Camelot;
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Down she came and found a boat
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Beneath a willow left afloat
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And round about the prow she wrote
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The Lady of Shalott
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And down the river’s dim expanse
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Like some bold seer in a trance
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Seeing all his own mischance —
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With a glassy countenance
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Did she look to Camelot
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And at the closing of the day
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She loosed the chain and down she lay;
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The broad stream bore her far away
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The Lady of Shalott
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Heard a carol, mournful, holy
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Chanted loudly, chanted lowly
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Till her blood was frozen slowly
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And her eyes were darkened wholly
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Turn’d to towered Camelot
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For ere she reach’d upon the tide
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The first house by the water-side
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Singing in her song she died
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The Lady of Shalott
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Under tower and balcony
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By garden-wall and gallery
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A gleaming shape she floated by
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Dead-pale between the houses high
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Silent into Camelot
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Out upon the wharfs they came
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Knight and burgher, lord and dame
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And round the prow they read her name
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The Lady of Shalott
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Who is this? |
And what is here?
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And in the lighted palace near
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Died the sound of royal cheer;
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And they crossed themselves for fear
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All the knights at Camelot;
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But Lancelot mused a little space
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He said, «She has a lovely face;
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God in his mercy lend her grace
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The Lady of Shalott.» |