Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

On either of the river lie
Long fields of and of rye,
That clothe the world and the sky;
And thro' the field the run by

To Camelot;

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

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

down to Camelot.

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

reapers, reaping early,
In the bearded barley
Hear a song that cheerly
the river winding clearly

Down to tower'd

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

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

To look to Camelot.

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

And through a mirror clear
hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the appear.
There she sees the highway

down to Camelot;

And sometimes thro' the blue
The come 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 the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and

And music, went to

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

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

Of Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever
To a in his shield,
That on the yellow field,
remote Shalott.

His clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his flow'd
His coal-black as on he rode,

As he back to Camelot.

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

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

She looked to Camelot.

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

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

Over Camelot;

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

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

Did she to Camelot.

And at the of the day
She loosed the and down 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 were darkened wholly,

Turn'd to Camelot.

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

tower and balcony,
By and gallery,
A gleaming she floated by,
between the houses high,

Silent Camelot.

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

Who is And what is here?
And in the palace near
the sound of royal cheer;
And they themselves 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."