Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

On either side of the lie
fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the world and meet the
And thro' the the road run by

To Camelot;

And up and the people go,
Gazing where the lilies
an island there below,
The of Shalott.

whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes and shiver
Thro' the wave that for ever
By the in the river

Flowing to Camelot.

Four grey walls, and grey towers,
Overlook a of flowers,
And the isle imbowers
The of Shalott.

Only reapers, early,
In the bearded barley
Hear a song that cheerly
From the winding clearly

to tower'd Camelot;

And by the the reaper weary,
Piling in uplands airy,
Listening, "'tis the fairy
The of Shalott."

she weaves by night and day
A magic web colours gay,
She has heard a say,
A curse is on her if she

To down to Camelot.

She knows not what the may be,
And so she steadily,
And other care hath she,
The of Shalott.

And moving through a mirror
That before her all the year,
Shadows of the appear.
she sees the highway near

Winding down to

And sometimes thro' the mirror
The Knights riding two and two.
She no loyal Knight and true,
The Of Shalott.

But in her web she still
To the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent
A funeral, with plumes and

And music, went to

Or when the was overhead,
Came two young lovers wed.
"I am half of shadows," said
The Of Shalott.

A from her bower-eaves,
He rode the barley sheaves,
The sun came thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen

Of Sir Lancelot.

A knight for ever kneel'd
To a in his shield,
That on the yellow field,
remote Shalott.

His broad brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his trode;
From his helmet flow'd
His curls as on he rode,

As he rode to Camelot.

From the and from the river
he flashed the crystal mirror,
"Tirra Lirra," by the
Sir Lancelot.

She the web, she left the loom,
She three paces taro' the room,
She saw the bloom,
She saw the and the plume,

She down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated
The cracked from side to side;
"The curse is come me," cried
The of Shalott.

In the stormy straining,
The yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his complaining.
the low sky raining

Over towered

Down she came and found a
a willow left afloat,
And round about the she wrote
The Lady of

And the river's dim expanse
some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own -
With a glassy

Did she to Camelot.

And at the of the day
She loosed the chain and down she
The broad bore her far away,
The of Shalott.

a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, lowly,
Till her blood was slowly,
And her eyes were wholly,

to towered Camelot.

For ere she reach'd upon the
The first by the water-side,
Singing in her she died,
The of Shalott.

tower and balcony,
By and gallery,
A shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the high,

into Camelot.

Out the wharfs they came,
and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And round the prow they her name,
The of Shalott.

Who is this? And what is
And in the lighted near
Died the sound of cheer;
And they crossed for fear,

All the at Camelot;

But Lancelot mused a space
He said, "She has a face;
God in his lend her grace,
The of Shalott."