Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

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

To Camelot;

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

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

Flowing to Camelot.

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

reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded
Hear a song echoes cheerly
From the river winding

Down to 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 is on her if she stay

To down to Camelot.

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

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

down to Camelot;

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

And music, to Camelot;

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

A bow-shot her bower-eaves,
He rode between the sheaves,
The sun came dazzling the leaves,
And flamed upon the greaves

Of Sir Lancelot.

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

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

As he rode to Camelot.

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

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

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

Over towered

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

And down the dim expanse
Like 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 and down she lay;
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,

Turn'd to Camelot.

For ere she reach'd upon the
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,
between the houses high,

Silent Camelot.

Out upon the they 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 palace near
the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed for fear,

All the Knights at

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