Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

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

To many-towered

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

whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and
Thro' the that runs for ever
By the island in the

down to Camelot.

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

reapers, reaping early,
In among the barley
Hear a song echoes cheerly
From the winding clearly

Down to Camelot;

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

There she weaves by and day
A magic web with gay,
She has heard a 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 other hath she,
The of Shalott.

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

Winding to Camelot;

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 delights
To weave the mirror's sights,
For thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with and lights

And music, to Camelot;

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

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

Of Sir Lancelot.

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

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

As he back 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 paces taro' the room,
She saw the bloom,
She saw the and the plume,

She looked to Camelot.

Out the web and floated wide;
The cracked 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.
Heavily the low sky

towered Camelot;

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

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

Did she to Camelot.

And at the of the day
She the chain 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 eyes were wholly,

to towered Camelot.

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

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

Silent Camelot.

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

Who is And what is here?
And in the lighted palace
Died the sound of royal
And they crossed for fear,

All the Knights at

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