LORD TENNYSON

And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below,

The island of Shalott.

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

Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow-veil'd, Slide the heavy barges trail'd By slow horses ; and unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken-saiPd

Skimming down to Camelot But who hath seen her wave her hand ? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land,

The Lady of Shalott?

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

Down to tower'd Camelot: And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers Tis the fairy

Lady of Shalott.'

�� �