Where are they tending? - A God Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Marshall'd them, gave them their goal. Little breezes dusk and shiver
Ah, but the way is so long!

Thro' the wave that runs for ever
Years they have been in the wild !

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.
Else, of the myriads who fill
That army, not one shall arrive;

By the margin, willow-veil'd,
Sole they shall stray; in the rocks

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,
Radiant with ardour divine !

The Lady of Shalott?
Beacons of hope, ye appear!
Languor is not in your heart,

Only reapers, reaping early
Weakness is not in your word,

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
Order, courage, return;

Lady of Shalott."
Eyes rekindling, and prayers,
Follow your steps as ye go.
Ye fill up the gaps in our files,

PART II
Strengthen the wavering line,
Stablish, continue our march,

There she weaves by night and day
On, to the bound of the waste,

A magic web with colors gay.
On, to the City of God.

She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay

To look down to Camelot.
ALFRED TENNYSON

She knows not what the curse may be,

And so she weaveth steadily,
THE LADY OF SHALOTT And little other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.
PART I
On either side the river lie

And moving thro' a mirror clear
Long fields of barley and of rye,

That hangs before her all the year,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky: Shadows of the world appear.
And thro' the field the road runs by There she sees the highway near
To many-tower'd Camelot;

Winding down to Camelot;
And up and down the people go,

There the river eddy whirls, Gazing where the lilies blow

And there the surly village-churls,
Round an island there below,

And the red cloaks of market girls,
The island of Shalott.

Pass onward from Shalott.

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