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the lady of shalott - Loreena McKennitt
On either side of the river lie
Long fields of and of rye,
That clothe the world and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road run by
To Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly
Down to tower'd
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, "'tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott."
There she weaves by night and day
A magic with colours gay,
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down Camelot;
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The Knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight true,
The Lady Of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady Of Shalott.
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow
Beside remote Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As rode back to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
he flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;


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