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 thro' the the road run by

To many-towered

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

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

down to Camelot.

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

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

to tower'd Camelot;

And by the the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in airy,
Listening, whispers "'tis the
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 other care hath she,
The of Shalott.

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

down to Camelot;

And sometimes the mirror blue
The Knights riding two and two.
She hath no loyal and true,
The Of Shalott.

But in her web she still
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 young 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 upon the brazen greaves

Of Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for kneel'd
To a in his shield,
That on the yellow field,
remote Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight
On hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his flow'd
His coal-black as on he rode,

As he rode to Camelot.

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

She left the web, she 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 floated
The mirror cracked from side to
"The curse is upon me," cried
The of Shalott.

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

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 seer in a trance,
all his own mischance -
With a glassy

Did she to Camelot.

And at the of the day
She loosed the 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,
in her song she died,
The of Shalott.

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

into Camelot.

Out upon the they came,
and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And round the prow read 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 at Camelot;

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