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 meet the
And the field the road run by

To many-towered

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

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

Flowing to Camelot.

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

Only reapers, early,
In the bearded barley
Hear a song that cheerly
the river winding clearly

Down to tower'd

And by the the reaper 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 look to Camelot.

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

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

Winding down to

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

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

And music, to Camelot;

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

A from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the sheaves,
The sun came dazzling the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen

Of Sir Lancelot.

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

His broad brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet
His curls as on he rode,

As he back to Camelot.

From the and from the river
he into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra Lirra," by the
Sir Lancelot.

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

In the stormy straining,
The pale yellow woods waning,
The stream in his banks complaining.
the low sky raining

Over Camelot;

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

And down the river's dim
Like bold 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 was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were 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.

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

Silent Camelot.

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

Who is And what is here?
And in the lighted palace
Died the of royal cheer;
And they crossed for fear,

All the Knights at

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