Luyện nghe bài hát The Lady of Shalott

On either side of the lie
Long fields of and of rye,
That the world and meet the sky;
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 that runs for ever
By the in the river

Flowing to Camelot.

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

Only reapers, early,
In among the barley
Hear a song echoes cheerly
the river winding clearly

Down to tower'd

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

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

To down to Camelot.

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

And moving through a clear
That before 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 weave the magic sights,
For often thro' the silent
A funeral, plumes and lights

And music, to Camelot;

Or the Moon was overhead,
two young lovers lately wed.
"I am half 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 upon the brazen

Of Sir Lancelot.

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

His broad clear in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse
From his helmet flow'd
His coal-black as on he rode,

As he back to Camelot.

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

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

Over towered

Down she came and a boat
Beneath a left afloat,
And about 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 countenance

Did she to Camelot.

And at the of the day
She the chain 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 eyes were wholly,

Turn'd to Camelot.

For ere she reach'd 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,
between the houses high,

Silent Camelot.

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

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

All the Knights at

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