The Lady Of Shalott

Album: The Visit (1991)
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  • On either side of the river lie
    Long fields of barley and of rye,
    That clothe the world and meet the sky;
    And thro' the field the road run by
    To many-towered Camelot;
    And up and down the people go,
    Gazing where the lilies blow
    Round an island there below,
    The island 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
    The Lady of Shalott."

    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.

    A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
    He rode between the barley sheaves,
    The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
    And flamed upon the brazen greaves
    Of bold Sir Lancelot.
    A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
    To a lady in his shield,
    That sparkled on the yellow field,
    Beside remote Shalott.

    She left the web, she left the loom,
    She made three paces taro' the room,
    She saw the water-lily bloom,
    She saw the helmet and the plume,
    She looked down to Camelot.
    Out flew the web and floated wide;
    The mirror cracked from side to side;
    "The curse is come upon me," cried
    The Lady of Shalott.

    In the stormy east-wind straining,
    The pale yellow woods were waning,
    The broad stream in his banks complaining.
    Heavily the low sky raining
    Over towered Camelot;
    Down she came and found a boat
    Beneath a willow left afloat,
    And round about the prow she wrote
    The Lady of Shalott

    Who is this? And what is here?
    And in the lighted palace near
    Died the sound of royal cheer;
    And they crossed themselves for fear,
    All the Knights at Camelot;
    But Lancelot mused a little space
    He said, "She has a lovely face;
    God in his mercy lend her grace,
    The Lady of Shalott." Writer/s: ALFRED TENNYSON, DAN SMITH, ROSE PRINCE, STEVE SMITH, TOM GILBERT
    Publisher: O/B/O DistroKid, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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