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Where are they tending? - A God Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river Sore thirst plagues them, the rocks,
Flowing down to Camelot. Rising all around, overawe;
Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Factions divide them, their host
Overlook a space of flowers. Threatens to break, to dissolve.
And the silent isle imbowers - Ah, keep, keep them combined !
The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow-veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd Stagger for ever in vain.
By slow horses; and unhail'd Die one by one in the waste.
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot; Then, in such hour of need
But who hath seen her wave her hand? Of your fainting, dispirited race,
Or at the casement seen her stand ? Ye, like angels, appear,
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley, Weariness not on your brow.
Hear a song that echoes cheerly Ye alight in our van! at your voice,
From the river winding clearly, Panic, despair, flee away.
Down to tower'd Camelot; Ye move through the ranks, recall
And by the moon the reaper weary, The stragglers, refresh the outworn,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Praise, re-inspire the brave!
Listening, whispers “ 'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colors gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Winding down to Camelot;
There the river eddy whirls, Gazing where the lilies blow
And there the surly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.
“COURAGE !” he said, and pointed to
ward the land, “This mounting wave will roll us shore
ward soon.” In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did
swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary
dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; And, like a downward smoke, the slender
stream Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall
Branches they bore of that enchanted
stem, Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they
gave To each, but whoso did receive of them And taste, to him the gushing of the wave Far far away did seem to mourn and rave On alien shores; and if his fellow spake, His voice was thin, as voices from the
grave; And deep-asleep he seem'd, yet all awake, And music in his ears his beating heart
They sat them down upon the yellow
A land of streams! some, like a down- Most weary seem'd the sea, weary the ward smoke,
var, Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, Weary the wandering fields of barren
sand, Between the sun and moon upon the
shore; And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland, Of child, and wife, and slave; but ever