Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

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

To Camelot;

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

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

down to Camelot.

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

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

Down to Camelot;

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 colours gay,
She has a whisper say,
A is on her if she stay

To down to Camelot.

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

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

Winding down to

And sometimes thro' the mirror
The come riding two and two.
She no loyal Knight and true,
The Of Shalott.

But in her web she delights
To the mirror's magic sights,
For often the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and

And music, to Camelot;

Or when the was overhead,
two young 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,
That sparkled on the field,
Beside Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight
On burnish'd 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 the crystal mirror,
"Tirra Lirra," by the
Sir Lancelot.

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

She looked to Camelot.

Out flew the web and wide;
The cracked from side to side;
"The curse is come me," cried
The of Shalott.

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

Over towered

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

And down the dim expanse
Like some seer in a trance,
all his own mischance -
With a glassy

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,
Till her blood was slowly,
And her eyes darkened wholly,

Turn'd to 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 gleaming shape she by,
Dead-pale the houses high,

Silent Camelot.

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

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

All the at Camelot;

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