Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

On either side of the lie
fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the world and meet the
And the field the road run by

To Camelot;

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

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

down to Camelot.

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

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

Down to Camelot;

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

There she by night and day
A magic web colours gay,
She has a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she

To down to Camelot.

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

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

down to Camelot;

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 the silent nights
A funeral, plumes and lights

And music, went to

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

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

Of Sir Lancelot.

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

His broad brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse
From his helmet flow'd
His curls 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 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 floated
The mirror cracked from to side;
"The curse is come upon me,"
The of Shalott.

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

towered Camelot;

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

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

Did she to Camelot.

And at the of the day
She loosed the chain and 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 eyes were 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,
Dead-pale between the high,

into Camelot.

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

Who is this? And is here?
And in the palace 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 face;
God in his mercy her grace,
The of Shalott."