Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

On either side of the lie
Long fields of and of rye,
That clothe the world and the sky;
And thro' the the road run by

To Camelot;

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

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

Flowing to Camelot.

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

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

Down to tower'd

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 with gay,
She has a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she

To look to Camelot.

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

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

Winding down to

And sometimes thro' the blue
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 thro' the silent
A funeral, plumes and lights

And music, went to

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

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

Of Sir Lancelot.

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

His clear 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.

the bank and from the river
he flashed the crystal 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 wide;
The mirror cracked from side to
"The curse is upon me," cried
The of Shalott.

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

towered Camelot;

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

And the river's dim expanse
Like some seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own -
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 were darkened wholly,

Turn'd to Camelot.

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

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

into Camelot.

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

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

All the Knights at

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