Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

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

To Camelot;

And up and down the go,
Gazing the lilies blow
Round an island below,
The of Shalott.

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

Flowing to Camelot.

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

Only reapers, early,
In among the barley
Hear a song that cheerly
From the river clearly

to tower'd Camelot;

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

There she by night and day
A magic web with gay,
She has a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she

To down to Camelot.

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

And through a mirror clear
That before her all the year,
of the world appear.
There she sees the near

Winding down to

And sometimes the mirror blue
The Knights riding two and two.
She hath no Knight and true,
The Of Shalott.

But in her web she still
To weave the magic sights,
For often the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and

And music, went to

Or the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lately wed.
"I am half sick of shadows,"
The Of Shalott.

A from her bower-eaves,
He between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling 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 war-horse
From underneath his flow'd
His coal-black as on he rode,

As he rode to Camelot.

From the bank and the river
he into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra Lirra," by the
Sir Lancelot.

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

She down to Camelot.

Out the web and floated wide;
The mirror from side to side;
"The curse is upon me," cried
The of Shalott.

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

Over Camelot;

she came and found a boat
Beneath a left afloat,
And round the prow she wrote
The of Shalott

And the river's dim expanse
Like bold seer in a trance,
all his own mischance -
With a countenance

Did she to Camelot.

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

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

to towered Camelot.

For ere she upon the tide
The first by the water-side,
in her song she died,
The of Shalott.

Under and balcony,
By and gallery,
A gleaming she floated by,
Dead-pale between the high,

into Camelot.

Out upon the wharfs came,
Knight and Burgher, and Dame,
And the prow they read her name,
The of Shalott.

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

All the at Camelot;

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