The Lady of Shalott

  By Alfred Lord Tennyson

Part I

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road runs by
To many-towered 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
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow veiled
Slide the heavy barges trailed
By slow horses; and unhailed
The shallop flitteth silken-sailed
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath 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 towered Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."

 

 

Part 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 through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot: 
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the curly village-churls,
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 shepherd-lad,
Or long-haired page in crimson clad,
Goes by to towered Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The 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 through the silent nights
A 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," said
The Lady of Shalott.

 

 

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling through the leaves, 
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneeled
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glittered free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazoned baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burned like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often through 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 war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flowed
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lira," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.

Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
Over towered Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
            The Lady of Shalott.

 

And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance —
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

 

Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right —
The leaves upon her falling light —
Through the noises of the night
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head 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 darkened wholly,
Turned to towered Camelot.
For ere she reached upon the tide 
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

 

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,

Silent into Camelot.
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 crossed 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."

 

 

New School Year's Resolutions

Most people start thinking about their goals for themselves come New Years.' They start thinking about what they feel they need to improve in themselves; what are their good qualities, and what are the things they don't really like about themselves and want to work on. For myself, (I think perhaps this is common for students period) I find that my mind is much more full of those thoughts come the beginning of the school year, rather than January 1st. It is at the beginning of the school year, as I'm sorting through last year's books, wading my way through the dishevel of my desk, still in the exact state it was last June when I closed those books.

By the by, I was thinking how one's desk has a queer feeling of time standing still through the summer. It always seems like one of those enchanted castles from fairy tales, with everything about it suspended in time from June to September. Perhaps the calender on the wall has something to do with this, reading "June" all through the summer till you go to change it come September. (At least this is what happens to me. I never touch my desk during the summer, there are much nicer places to go to write or draw during the Summer- places that don't have that ominous schoolwork feel to them.)

So here we are, September 3, 2012, dusting one's spaces and writing up a post on goals for the school year. I don't quite want to say 'resolutions' as the word resolution rather has a distasteful ring to it of things incomplete hanging over your head, don't you think? This mostly has to do with the fact that most of us set our resolutions much too high and then give up as soon as we slip once. This is why I'm not going to say anything about keeping my desk/room in states of perfection, as I know this to be quite an impossible task for myself. I'm not saying I couldn't, but doing that would, I fear, drain all the creative energy out of me and leave me unable to write, draw, create, or think even, due to a little too much perfection for comfort. I need a little bit of scattered paper and stubs of pencils lying about to be comfortable. I will say that I shall try to keep things in a better state of order, but I shan't strive for perfection, merely organized chaos.

I am going to lay out a few attainable, workable goals, though.

1. Blogging. This is my blog for the coming year, and I'm planning on creating frequent posts on all matters of things. I shall say nothing about making each post a work of art, but just that I shall post regularly and put into words those many posts that I'm always coming up with in my head, but never writing.

2. Writing. I want to write a little every single day. Whether this is writing in my new journal book, or fiction writing, or blogging, I want to get up each morning and sit myself down with a cup of coffee and really truly write.

3. Going to bed at a decent hour. (This will, of course, be the hardest for me.) I'm going to turn off my Internet at a reasonable hour each night, and if I stay up a little later I want to be able to spend that time in reading. This means not getting lost in the many corners and paths of the Internet.

4. Getting up in the morning.

5. Walking. I want to walk a little each day, and when I say walking I don't mean the necessary walking I do anyways, but going on long rambling (or of course brisk purposeful) walks.

6. Drinking more water. (Might I just add that while 5 and 6 may not seem strictly relevant to getting school work done, I assure you they are. A healthy, energetic me is going to be more happy and productive with her day, rather than the slothful me who can't keep her eyes open.)

I think that's all I shall say for now. Of course getting actual school work as a goal goes without saying. Also I shall just add a link to Victoria's post Homeschool Tips from Setonite, which I thought was very good.

Also. The Lady of Shalott, because I love that poem and this is beautiful.