Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

On either of the river lie
Long of barley and of rye,
That the world and meet the sky;
And the field the road run by

To Camelot;

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

Willows whiten, quiver,
Little dusk and shiver
Thro' the that runs for ever
By the in the river

Flowing to Camelot.

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

Only reapers, early,
In among the bearded
Hear a that echoes cheerly
the river winding clearly

Down to Camelot;

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

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

And moving through a clear
hangs 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 hath no loyal and true,
The Of Shalott.

But in her web she delights
To weave the magic sights,
For often thro' the silent
A funeral, with and lights

And music, went to

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

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

Of Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross for ever kneel'd
To a in his shield,
sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside Shalott.

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

As he rode to Camelot.

From the bank and from the
he flashed into the mirror,
"Tirra Lirra," by the
Sir Lancelot.

She the web, she left 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 cracked from side to side;
"The is come upon me," cried
The of Shalott.

In the east-wind straining,
The yellow woods were waning,
The broad in his banks complaining.
the low sky raining

Over towered

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

And down the dim expanse
Like some 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 she lay;
The broad stream her far away,
The of Shalott.

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

to towered Camelot.

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

Under and balcony,
By and gallery,
A gleaming shape she by,
between the houses high,

Silent Camelot.

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

Who is this? And is here?
And in the lighted palace
the sound of royal cheer;
And crossed themselves for fear,

All the Knights at

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