Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

On either of the river lie
fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the and meet the sky;
And the field the road run by

To Camelot;

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

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

Flowing to Camelot.

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

Only reapers, early,
In among the bearded
Hear a song echoes cheerly
From the winding clearly

to tower'd Camelot;

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

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

To look to Camelot.

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

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

Winding to Camelot;

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

But in her web she still
To weave the mirror's sights,
For often thro' the nights
A funeral, plumes and lights

And music, to Camelot;

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

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

Of Sir Lancelot.

A knight for ever kneel'd
To a in his shield,
sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside Shalott.

His broad 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 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 the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to
"The curse is upon me," cried
The of Shalott.

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

Over towered

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

And the river's 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 stream 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 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,
between the houses high,

Silent Camelot.

Out the wharfs they 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
Died the sound of cheer;
And crossed themselves for fear,

All the Knights at

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