There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot:
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed;
"I am half-sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro' the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
5 comments:
this poem actually has between 19 & 24 stanzas i think depending which version you read - i just picked out a few for the rhythm of the ballad... thanks kk for reminding me of it.
oh - and the painting's by william holman hunt 1905.
It is beautiful. When said aloud, it is musical. Thanks.
The oral tradition. Poetry should be read aloud. Poetry should "sound good." I love listening to Jack Kerouac read his work, poetry or prose. He was in love with the sounds and rhythms of language.
Thank you for the beautiful poem and painting, sylvia.
I'm just saying...too deep with-in's for me, but the picture is pretty.
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