Select poems of Alfred lord Tennyson . She floated down to Camelot; 140 And as the boat-head wound alongThe wiflowy hills and fields among,They heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shalott. Heard a carol, mournful, loudly, chanted lowly,Till her blood was frozen her eyes were darkend wholly, Turnd to towerd Camelot;For ere she reachd upon the tide 150 The first house by the water-side,Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott. Under tower and garden-wall and gallery,A gleaming shape she floated between the houses high,Silent into
Select poems of Alfred lord Tennyson . She floated down to Camelot; 140 And as the boat-head wound alongThe wiflowy hills and fields among,They heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shalott. Heard a carol, mournful, loudly, chanted lowly,Till her blood was frozen her eyes were darkend wholly, Turnd to towerd Camelot;For ere she reachd upon the tide 150 The first house by the water-side,Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott. Under tower and garden-wall and gallery,A gleaming shape she floated between the houses high,Silent into Camelot- THE MILLERS DAUGHTER. 25 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 hghted palace nearDied the sound of royal cheer;And they crossd 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. 170 \u. THE MILLERS DAUGHTER. I SEE the wealthy miller double chin, his portly size. And who that knew him could forgetThe busy wrinkles round his eyes ? 26 THE MILLERS DAUGHTER. The slow wise smile that, round aboutHis dusty forehead drily curld, Seemd half-within and half-without,And full of dealings with the world ? In yonder chair I see him sit. Three fingers round the old silver cup —I see his gray eyes twinkle yet At his own jest — gray eyes lit upWith summer lightnings of a soul So full of summer warmth, so glad,So healthy, sound, and clear and whole, His memory scarce can make me sad. Yet fill my glass : give me one kiss : My own sweet Alice, we must somewhat in this world amiss Shall be unriddled by and somewhat flows to us in life, But more is taken quite , Alice, pray, my darling wife, That we may die the selfsame day. Have I not found a happy earth ? I least should breathe a thought of God r
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