---

Four grey walls and four grey towers

Overlook a space of flowers

And the Silent Isle embowers

The Lady of Shalott

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay

But a curse is on her if she stay

To look down to Camelot

Tirra Lirra, Lirra Lye

Drifts through the barley over the rye

Calling to her up on high

The voice of Lancelot

And moving through a mirror clear

That hangs before her all the year

Shadows of the world appear

Winding down 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.

Tirra Lirra, Lirra Lye

Drifts through the barley over the rye

Calling to her up on high

The voice of Lancelot

Out flew the web and floated wide

The mirror crashed from side to side

“The curse has come upon me,” cried

The Lady of Shalott

Along the river she floated by

Singing to her love goodbye

Tirra Lirra, Lirra Lye

The Lady of Shalott

Forever outside the walls of Camelot

There lies Lady of Shalott

A worded fragment time all but forgot

There lies Lady of Shalott