Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

On side of the river lie
fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the world and meet the
And thro' the the road run by

To Camelot;

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

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

down to Camelot.

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

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

to tower'd Camelot;

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

she weaves 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 knows not the curse 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,
of the world appear.
There she the highway near

Winding down to

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

But in her web she still
To weave the magic sights,
For often thro' the silent
A funeral, with and lights

And music, to Camelot;

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

A from her bower-eaves,
He between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling 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 broad clear in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd his war-horse trode;
underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black as on he rode,

As he back to Camelot.

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

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

She looked to Camelot.

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

In the stormy straining,
The pale woods were waning,
The broad in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky

towered Camelot;

Down she came and a boat
a willow left afloat,
And round the prow she wrote
The Lady of

And the river's dim expanse
some 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 stream bore her far away,
The of Shalott.

a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, lowly,
Till her was frozen slowly,
And her were darkened wholly,

Turn'd to Camelot.

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

tower and balcony,
By and gallery,
A gleaming she floated by,
Dead-pale between the high,

Silent Camelot.

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

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

All the at Camelot;

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