Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

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

To many-towered

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

whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and
the wave that runs for ever
By the in the river

down to Camelot.

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

reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded
a song that echoes cheerly
From the winding clearly

Down to Camelot;

And by the the reaper weary,
sheaves in uplands 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 is on her if she stay

To look to Camelot.

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

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

Winding to Camelot;

And sometimes the mirror blue
The Knights come 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, plumes and lights

And music, to Camelot;

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

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

Of Sir Lancelot.

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

His clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse
From his helmet flow'd
His coal-black 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 three paces taro' the room,
She saw the bloom,
She saw the and the plume,

She looked to Camelot.

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

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

Over towered

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

And down the dim expanse
Like some bold in a trance,
Seeing all his own -
a glassy countenance

Did she to Camelot.

And at the of the day
She the chain and down she lay;
The broad stream 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 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 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 near
the sound of royal cheer;
And they themselves for fear,

All the at Camelot;

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