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And down the river's dim expanse

Like some bold seër 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.

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Puts forth an arm, and creeps

to pine,

from pine

And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand The lawns and meadow-ledges midway

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She, leaning on a fragment twined with Clustered about his temples like a God's; vine, And his cheek brightened as the foam

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