I
On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye，That clothe the wold and meet the sky；And thro’the field the road runs byTo manytower‘d Camelot；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 riverFlowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls，and four gray towers，Overlook a space of flowers，And the silent isle embowers The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin，willowveil‘d，Slide the heavy barges trail’d By slow horses；and unhail‘d The shallop flitteth silkensail’dSkimming down to Camelot：But who has 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 fairyLady of Shalott.”
II
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 nearWinding down to Camelot：There the river eddy whirls，And there the surly villagechurls，And the red cloaks of market girls，Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad，An abbot on an ambling pad，Sometimes a curly shepherdlad，Or longhair ’d page in crimson clad，Goes by to tower‘d Camelot；And sometimes thro’the mirror blueThe knights come riding two and two：She hath no loyal knight and true，The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror‘s magic sights，For often thro’the silent nightsA 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，”saidThe Lady of Shalott.
III
A bowshot from her bowereaves，He rode between the barleysheaves，.
The sun came dazzling thro‘the leaves，And flamed upon the brazen greavesOf bold Sir Lancelot.
A redcross knight for ever kneel’d To a lady in his shield，That sparkled on the yellow field，Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glitter‘d free，Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy.
As he rode down to Camelot：And from his blazon’d baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung，And as he rode his armour rung，Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather Thickjewell‘d shone the saddleleather，The helmet and the helmetfeather Burn’d like one burning flame together，As he rode down to Camelot.As often thro‘the purple night，Below the starry clusters bright，Some bearded meteor，trailing light，Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d；On burnished hooves his warhorse trode；From underneath his helmet flow‘dHis coalblack curls as on he rode，As he rode down to Camelot.From the bank and from the river He flash’d into the crystal mirror，“Tirra lirra，”by the riverSang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web，she left the loom，She made three paces thro‘the room，She saw the waterlily 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，”criedThe Lady of Shalott.
IV
In the stormy eastwind straining，The pale yellow woods were waning，The broad stream in his banks complaining，Heavily the low sky rainingOver tower’d Camelot；Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat，And round about the prow she wroteThe Lady of Shalott .
And down the river‘s dim expanse Like some bold se？r in a trance，Seeing all his own mischanceWith a glassy countenanceDid she look to Camelot.And at the cosing of the dayShe loosed the chain and down she lay；The broad stream bore her far away，The Lady of Shalott.
That loosely flew to left and rightThe leaves upon her falling lightThro’the noises of the nightShe floated down to Camelot：And as the boathead wound along The willowy hills and fields among，They heard her singing her last song，The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol，mournful，holy，Chanted loudly，chanted lowly，Till her blood was frozen slowly，And her eyes were darken‘d wholly，Turn’d to tower‘d Camelot.
For ere she reach’d upon the tide The first house by the waterside，Singing in her song she died，The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony，By gardenwall and gallery，A gleaming shape she floated by，Deadpale between the houses high，
Out upon the wharfs they came，Knight and burgher，lord and dame，And round the prow they read her name，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 cross‘d 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.”
