On the other aide of the river lieLong fields of barley and rye,That clothe the world and meet the sky;And through the field the road runs by To many-towered Camelot;And up and down the people goGazing where the lilies blowRound and island thee below, The island of Shallot.
Willows whiten, apsens quiver,Little breezes dusk and shiverThro' the wave that runs for everBy the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot.Four grey walls, and four grey towers,Overlook a space of flowersAnd the silent isle embowers The lady of Shallot
There she weaves by night and dayA magic web with colours gay.She heard a whisper say,A curse is on her if she stay To look down on Camelot.She knows not what the curse may be,And so she weaveth steadily,And little other care hath she, The lady of Shallott.And moving thro' a mirror clear
The stormy east wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning,The broad stream in the banks complaining,Heavily the low sky raining Over towered Camelot;Down she came and found a boatBeneath a left afloat,And round the prow she wrote The lady of Shallott
Lying, robed in snowy whiteThat loosely flew left to right -That leaves upon her falling lightThro' the noises of the nightShe floated down to Camelot:And the boat-head wound alongThe willowy hills and fields among,They heard her singing her last song, The lady of Shallot
Under the tower and balcony,By garden wall and gallery,A gleaming shape she floated byDead-pale between between the houses high, Silent into Camelot.Out upon the wharfs they came,Knight and burgher, lord and dame,Out flew the web and floated wide;The mirror cracked from side to side'The curse is come upon me,' cried The lady of shallot