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The Lady of Shalott
She knows not what the curse may be...
'The Lady of Shalott' is a lyrical ballad by the 19th-century English poet Alfred Tennyson. Inspired by the short prose text 'La Damigella di Scalot' from the 13th-century, it tells the tragic story of Elaine of Astolat, a young noblewoman stranded in a tower up the river from Camelot. It is one of Tennyson's most famous and memorable works, with its lucid medieval romanticism, as well as enigmatic symbolism.
Alfred Tennyson (1809–1892), invariably known as Alfred Lord Tennyson, was born in Somersby, UK. At the age of 18, he published his first book, 'Poems by Two Brothers' with his brother, later followed by 'Poems Chiefly Lyrical' (1830). In 1850, Tennyson was appointed Poet Laureate and married his childhood friend, Emily Sellwood. In 1884, as a great favorite of both Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, he was given the title of Baron Tennyson of Aldworth, the first Englishman to be granted such a high rank solely for his literary faculty. Tennyson continued to write poetry throughout his life. He died in 1892 at the age of 83, to be then buried in Westminster Abbey.
'The Lady of Shalott' is a lyrical ballad by the 19th-century English poet Alfred Tennyson. Inspired by the short prose text 'La Damigella di Scalot' from the 13th-century, it tells the tragic story of Elaine of Astolat, a young noblewoman stranded in a tower up the river from Camelot. It is one of Tennyson's most famous and memorable works, with its lucid medieval romanticism, as well as enigmatic symbolism.
Alfred Tennyson (1809–1892), invariably known as Alfred Lord Tennyson, was born in Somersby, UK. At the age of 18, he published his first book, 'Poems by Two Brothers' with his brother, later followed by 'Poems Chiefly Lyrical' (1830). In 1850, Tennyson was appointed Poet Laureate and married his childhood friend, Emily Sellwood. In 1884, as a great favorite of both Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, he was given the title of Baron Tennyson of Aldworth, the first Englishman to be granted such a high rank solely for his literary faculty. Tennyson continued to write poetry throughout his life. He died in 1892 at the age of 83, to be then buried in Westminster Abbey.
40 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1833
About the author
Alfred Tennyson
2,085 books1,375 followersAlfred Tennyson, invariably known as Alfred Lord Tennyson on all his books, was born in Somersby, Lincolnshire, the fourth of the twelve children of George Tennyson, clergyman, and his wife, Elizabeth. In 1816 Tennyson was sent to Louth Grammar School, which he disliked so intensely that from 1820 he was educated at home until at the age of 18 he joined his two brothers at Trinity College, Cambridge and with his brother Charles published his first book, Poems by Two Brothers the same year.
His second book, Poems Chiefly Lyrical was published in 1830. In 1833, Tennyson's best friend Arthur Henry Hallam, who was engaged to his sister, died, inspiring some of his best work including In Memoriam, Ulysses and the Passing of Arthur.
In 1850, following William Wordsworth, Tennyson was appointed Poet Laureate and married his childhood friend, Emily Sellwood. They had two children, Hallam born in 1852 and Lionel, two years later. In 1884, as a great favourite of both Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, he was raised to the peerage and was thereafter known as Baron Tennyson of Aldworth. He was the first Englishman to be granted such a high rank solely for literary distinction.
Tennyson continued to write poetry throughout his life and in the 1870s also wrote a number of plays. he died in 1892 at the age of 83 and was buried in Westminster Abbey.
His second book, Poems Chiefly Lyrical was published in 1830. In 1833, Tennyson's best friend Arthur Henry Hallam, who was engaged to his sister, died, inspiring some of his best work including In Memoriam, Ulysses and the Passing of Arthur.
In 1850, following William Wordsworth, Tennyson was appointed Poet Laureate and married his childhood friend, Emily Sellwood. They had two children, Hallam born in 1852 and Lionel, two years later. In 1884, as a great favourite of both Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, he was raised to the peerage and was thereafter known as Baron Tennyson of Aldworth. He was the first Englishman to be granted such a high rank solely for literary distinction.
Tennyson continued to write poetry throughout his life and in the 1870s also wrote a number of plays. he died in 1892 at the age of 83 and was buried in Westminster Abbey.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 390 reviews
February 22, 2016
This poem is one of the first I ever read, and is a true pleasure to read aloud. Go on, give it a try! But, perhaps only do so when nobody else is in the house, to save embarrassment.
The Lady of Shallot is a lonely figure; she is isolated form the world and stuck up in a tower. She can only look out and admire the world that she cannot touch and cannot take part in. The world is separated from her by the height of the tower and the river moat that surrounds it, it constantly reminds her that she is completely and utterly alone in this world. This is emphasised by the fact that the reader isn’t privy to her thoughts and emotions; she is a distant figure within the poem, which makes her remoteness felt by the reader in the poem’s lovely lyrical tones.
It is no wonder then, that when the glorious Sir Lancelot starts prancing about in a majestic manner, that she is taken by him. He represents the so called glory days of England; he is splendid and noble. He is a mirror of the Arthurian myth and the wonders of Camelot. The Lady has been completely seduced by the teasing reflections in her mirror, and she can no longer resist the temptation to go to him. She’s never seen such a wonderful man from the dimness of her tower window. She tosses down her spinning and rushes to him. She abandons her mirror and seclusion.
But, she was cursed, and ultimately caused her own death. She knew she couldn’t leave the tower, but did so anyway. To my mind, this is a reflection of the women of the Victorian age; they were restricted and confined like the Lady. An attempt to break those restrictions would lead in destruction because society, for women, was oppressive and controlling. Women, apparently, were supposed to know their place. Perhaps, the poem is a suggestion of what happens to women who try to break their chains. I think this can be seen in both a positive and negative light. Positive in that it’s a metaphor for women’s place in society (intent of showing injustice), and negative in that it shows what happens to women who disobey so to be shown as a warning.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden wall and gallery,
A pale, pale corpse she floated by,
Deadcold, between the houses high,
Dead into tower'd Camelot.
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
To the planked wharfage came:
Below the stern they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
The Lady of Shallot is a lonely figure; she is isolated form the world and stuck up in a tower. She can only look out and admire the world that she cannot touch and cannot take part in. The world is separated from her by the height of the tower and the river moat that surrounds it, it constantly reminds her that she is completely and utterly alone in this world. This is emphasised by the fact that the reader isn’t privy to her thoughts and emotions; she is a distant figure within the poem, which makes her remoteness felt by the reader in the poem’s lovely lyrical tones.
It is no wonder then, that when the glorious Sir Lancelot starts prancing about in a majestic manner, that she is taken by him. He represents the so called glory days of England; he is splendid and noble. He is a mirror of the Arthurian myth and the wonders of Camelot. The Lady has been completely seduced by the teasing reflections in her mirror, and she can no longer resist the temptation to go to him. She’s never seen such a wonderful man from the dimness of her tower window. She tosses down her spinning and rushes to him. She abandons her mirror and seclusion.
But, she was cursed, and ultimately caused her own death. She knew she couldn’t leave the tower, but did so anyway. To my mind, this is a reflection of the women of the Victorian age; they were restricted and confined like the Lady. An attempt to break those restrictions would lead in destruction because society, for women, was oppressive and controlling. Women, apparently, were supposed to know their place. Perhaps, the poem is a suggestion of what happens to women who try to break their chains. I think this can be seen in both a positive and negative light. Positive in that it’s a metaphor for women’s place in society (intent of showing injustice), and negative in that it shows what happens to women who disobey so to be shown as a warning.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden wall and gallery,
A pale, pale corpse she floated by,
Deadcold, between the houses high,
Dead into tower'd Camelot.
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
To the planked wharfage came:
Below the stern they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
April 14, 2020
Update - Covid-19 - 14 April 2020”
In a way I was pleased that last night President Macron decided to extend the "lockdown" for an additional four weeks. If it will save lives that is the main thing but the other disturbing fact is how many people at the end of this long journey are going to cope both financially and mentally?
So in my temporary period of gloom I thought of this beautiful poem but so apt today.
Scroll down and you will see it in the text here:
This suits my current frame of mind beautifully.
An absolutely splendid work. That's all I need to say.
I read it years ago but now it seems to have had more of a profound impact on me for some obscure reason.
It's short but one can really savour all the nuances.
I especially liked:
"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 look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.”
Exquisite.
In a way I was pleased that last night President Macron decided to extend the "lockdown" for an additional four weeks. If it will save lives that is the main thing but the other disturbing fact is how many people at the end of this long journey are going to cope both financially and mentally?
So in my temporary period of gloom I thought of this beautiful poem but so apt today.
Scroll down and you will see it in the text here:
This suits my current frame of mind beautifully.
An absolutely splendid work. That's all I need to say.
I read it years ago but now it seems to have had more of a profound impact on me for some obscure reason.
It's short but one can really savour all the nuances.
I especially liked:
"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 look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.”
Exquisite.
September 18, 2015
Alongside Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven, Alfred Tennyson's The Lady of Shalott stands as one of the more fascinating works of poetry from the 1800s. Aesthetically it is a work of great and simply beauty, therefore providing evidence that language in a poetic simplicity can provide some of the greatest and most beautiful ideas and images. After all, in the Bible, the splendour of light was released with 'Let there be light.'
The poem appears simple on the outside, with a nice flowing rhythm, reinforced by the repetitious aaaabcccb structure and the use of the word Shalott to close almost each stanza. Yet the poem is far more complex than its language may suggest. There are hints of various critiques and subversions of traditional love narratives buried in Tennyson's work and as such The Lady of Shalott becomes another fantasy tale that reflects on reality.
The narrative, essentially describing how one Lady of Shalott, trapped in a tower, is forced to view the world of Camelot through a mirror, lest she succumb to a curse. Eventually she does turn from the mirror to look down at the glittering, gem covered Lancelot, the poem's ultimate symbol of masculinity (and virility). As a result her mirror and artistry break, signs that her curse has fallen upon her. As a result, she leaves her tower in a boat and floats down to Camelot, only to arrive dead and drained of blood. Where only Lancelot is considerate enough to look upon her and comment that:
"She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
Many critics have suggested that The Lady of the poem is the perfect symbol for how Victorian women were expected to behave, therefore making of this poem a feminist critique. The sense pervades the poem that when the Lady looks down at her possible lover, the beautified Lancelot, it is because she is a woman and therefore supposedly given into the irrational. The very idea that this woman has to be kept hidden in a tower, concealed away from society (and perhaps from exploring her sexuality) is in itself a unique critique. Therefore, it is possible that Tennyson intended the poem to criticise the idea that women were meant to be seen and not heard; objects of beauty but not of necessarily logical capacity. The fact that Tennyson was Poet Laureate for the Queen leads one to consider the strong indications that this poem was intended to be political in nature.
Another angle to observe this poem from is the perspective of the poem as a subversion of the classic fairytale knight quest. Considering the way in which Tennyson uses Arthurian myth and legend in the poem this again seems like another way in which Tennyson perhaps criticises romantic love in relation to male and female dynamics. There is the sense that Tennyson condemns the romantic idea of the gallant chivalrous knight rescuing the damsel in distress, for in his narrative the knights do not come to rescue the damsel and instead the damsel must leave her tower for the knight, resulting in her death. This could be seen as an indication that Tennyson believes that there are no happy ever afters and that chivalry is a naive idea of the past (particular when one connects the poem to the reality of the industrialised age Tennyson lived in). Or, one could read it as a condemnation of women being forced to become independent and rely upon their own strength, that essentially without a knight to rescue them a woman will die from a curse.
One of the motifs in the poem is the use of ethereal, dreamlike constructs. Mirrors and shadows in particular feature heavily in the poem, from the mirror the Lady is forced to observe the world through. A mirror which could be seen as a symbol for the social constraints obscuring that which can be truly seen. Then again, how the Lady weaves what she sees in the mirror into a web of tapestry could be viewed as a criticism of how the artist performs their work. A particularly poignant idea when connected to the nature of Tennyson being Poet Laureate.
"'I am half sick of shadows,' said
The Lady of Shalott."
Whatever way you choose to read this poem it is a fascinating work (as is most of Tennyson's work). And in some senses it is a danger to read too much into the poem for fear of ignoring the sheer aesthetic beauty of it. Indeed Tennyson is a poet who understands how to capture musicality with words and as such his work should be read by anyone interested in literature.
June 16, 2021
A lovely poem with different interpretations
Tennyson’s poem tells a story of a woman who lived isolated in a tower on an island called Shalott, suffered from a curse forced her not to look at reality, she is only allowed to see the outside world through its reflection in a mirror, one day she glimpsed the reflected image of a handsome knight, and cannot resist looking at him directly, the mirror cracked and the curse came upon her
Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer
And they cross’d 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.”
Tennyson’s poem tells a story of a woman who lived isolated in a tower on an island called Shalott, suffered from a curse forced her not to look at reality, she is only allowed to see the outside world through its reflection in a mirror, one day she glimpsed the reflected image of a handsome knight, and cannot resist looking at him directly, the mirror cracked and the curse came upon her
Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer
And they cross’d 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.”
August 23, 2019
She left the web, she left the loom
She made three paces thro' the room
She saw the water-flower bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
'The curse is come upon me,' cried
The Lady of Shalott.
The Lady of Shalott is a sad and haunting poem about a noblewoman imprisoned in a tower who is cursed and sees the real world only through a mirror.
She made three paces thro' the room
She saw the water-flower bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
'The curse is come upon me,' cried
The Lady of Shalott.
The Lady of Shalott is a sad and haunting poem about a noblewoman imprisoned in a tower who is cursed and sees the real world only through a mirror.
May 5, 2017
Many people, I dare say most, will claim to not like poetry, but this is one of those poems that I believe everyone can read and enjoy. The enchantment of the rhythm and rhyme of Tennyson's words, the hint of romance and the allusion to magic, all combine to make this poem a memorable pleasure.
Tennyson actually wrote two versions of this poem ten years apart (1832-1842). The later one is one verse shorter than the first, both very similar, both very good.
Tennyson actually wrote two versions of this poem ten years apart (1832-1842). The later one is one verse shorter than the first, both very similar, both very good.
December 24, 2011
There's a nice moment in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie which references this poem. They're reading it in class, and they've just reached the line
"What did you write it with?" she asks.
"I found a pot of paint on the bank," replies the Lady. "It had probably been left there by one of the Unemployed."
And round about the prow she wrote: 'The Lady of Shalott'.The schoolgirl, daydreaming and only half paying attention, imagines herself talking with Tennyson's eponymous heroine.
"What did you write it with?" she asks.
"I found a pot of paint on the bank," replies the Lady. "It had probably been left there by one of the Unemployed."
May 28, 2008
My favorite poem. Even after all these years, it still gets to me. It is long, but worth it, I feel. I beg of you to read past the Romantic descriptions of nature and the older English to what's really in there:
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 run by
To many-tower'd 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 grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
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 tower'd Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers, " 'Tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott."
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 surly 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-hair'd page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower'd 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.
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glitter'd 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 blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
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 lirra," 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 look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
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 tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around 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 --
Thro' 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,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd 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 around 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 lent her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
My favorite verse is this one:
"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."
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 run by
To many-tower'd 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 grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
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 tower'd Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers, " 'Tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott."
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 surly 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-hair'd page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower'd 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.
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glitter'd 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 blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
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 lirra," 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 look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
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 tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around 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 --
Thro' 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,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd 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 around 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 lent her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
My favorite verse is this one:
"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."
July 23, 2021
“‘I am half sick of shadows,’said
The Lady of Shalott.”
When hearing the name Alfred Lord Tennyson, I generally think of charging cavalrymen, a mysterious Kraken, Arthuriana and, of course, of The Lady of Shalott, which is probably one of the best-known English poems. Based on an Italian story from the 13th century, which has somehow found its way into Arthurian legend, it tells the story of a beautiful young noblewoman, the Lady of Shalott, who is imprisoned in a tower on a riverside near Camelot and who lives under a curse that makes her look at things outside her window but indirectly through a magic mirror, weaving the images of what she sees into an endless tapestry. Being “half sick of shadows” already, one day, when Sir Lancelot rides by, the Lady leaves her place to take a direct look at the knight, thus causing the mirror to crack and ending her own life: Floating towards Camelot in a boat, she sings her own swansong.
Its tone of mystery and haunting romanticism has given rise to countless interpretations. One of the most intriguing ones I know of is concerned with art or the artist himself, who, according to this reading of the poem, can only unfold his potential in its entirety if he withdraws from the world and its base affairs as far as possible. The magic mirror may here stand for the artist’s gift of inspiration which filters his view on the world, enabling him to produce his works of art. Trying to be part of the world will inevitably affect the artist’s inspiration so that it cracks like a mirror. Another interpretation sees the poem as a comment on the role of woman in Victorian society where she is mainly confined to the domestic sphere and not supposed to take part in the business of public affairs. In this context, it might be interesting that once the Lady has died, her corpse in all its tragic beauty becomes an object of admiration to Sir Lancelot.
Whenever I read this poem, I cannot help thinking of Plato’s Cave Allegory because the Lady regards the reflections of the mirror as shadows of the objects she could she in the outside world. The setting is remarkably similar, with the Lady weaving the impressions she gets from her mirror into the endless tapestry while the men in Plato’s Cave talk of the shadows they perceive as the actual objects by which they are cast. One can sense the Lady’s dissatisfaction with the confinement not only of her body but also of her perception and once she has taken a direct glimpse through the window – encouraged by the splendour of the passing knight Sir Lancelot – it becomes clear to her that she cannot go on living the way she has up to now. Realizing that the tower has become too small for her, she embarks on a journey down the river – the journey of actively living her life – at the cost of losing apparent certainties she may have held dear for so long. We can say that the Lady has chosen the red pill over the blue one and finally started living her life truly, which has taken her into the scope of Death. It may be that my interpretation in the light of the Allegory of the Cave was partly encouraged by the global situation we are currently experiencing and that a couple of years ago, I would not have interpreted the poem in the same way. Regardless of my stance on the question whether the restrictions we suddenly find ourselves under can really be justified by the need to contain a disease like Covid, the mirror has cracked, anyway. Two years ago, I would have said that our civil rights and individual liberties are the bedrock of our western societies and that most people would not suffer them to be taken away or restricted with a single stroke of a pen. Now I even find a considerable majority of my fellow humans even applauding this unprecedented measure as a means of saving their lives. Even if we are “allowed” to get back these time-honoured rights and the government returns to a policy of respect for people’s privacy – I am very pessimistic as to this last of the two “if”s –, I can say that the mirror is cracked once and for all for me because the readiness many people showed to put their implicit trust in their governments, and to give up basic principles originally set up as safeguards against the high-handedness of the mighty as well as the quickness with which doubts and reservations were tainted with the odium of hygienic treason – all this came as a shock to me, and I hope it is not too dramatic for me to say that I have lost my confidence in society and many people around me. Mind you: I am not saying that there is a conspiracy going on or that it is all a sham, lacking the medical knowledge to come to a final conclusion here, but still, I realized that what I took for a general respect for civilizational standards and rules were nothing but shadows.
And now, I find myself floating down a river of naked awareness.
The Lady of Shalott.”
When hearing the name Alfred Lord Tennyson, I generally think of charging cavalrymen, a mysterious Kraken, Arthuriana and, of course, of The Lady of Shalott, which is probably one of the best-known English poems. Based on an Italian story from the 13th century, which has somehow found its way into Arthurian legend, it tells the story of a beautiful young noblewoman, the Lady of Shalott, who is imprisoned in a tower on a riverside near Camelot and who lives under a curse that makes her look at things outside her window but indirectly through a magic mirror, weaving the images of what she sees into an endless tapestry. Being “half sick of shadows” already, one day, when Sir Lancelot rides by, the Lady leaves her place to take a direct look at the knight, thus causing the mirror to crack and ending her own life: Floating towards Camelot in a boat, she sings her own swansong.
Its tone of mystery and haunting romanticism has given rise to countless interpretations. One of the most intriguing ones I know of is concerned with art or the artist himself, who, according to this reading of the poem, can only unfold his potential in its entirety if he withdraws from the world and its base affairs as far as possible. The magic mirror may here stand for the artist’s gift of inspiration which filters his view on the world, enabling him to produce his works of art. Trying to be part of the world will inevitably affect the artist’s inspiration so that it cracks like a mirror. Another interpretation sees the poem as a comment on the role of woman in Victorian society where she is mainly confined to the domestic sphere and not supposed to take part in the business of public affairs. In this context, it might be interesting that once the Lady has died, her corpse in all its tragic beauty becomes an object of admiration to Sir Lancelot.
Whenever I read this poem, I cannot help thinking of Plato’s Cave Allegory because the Lady regards the reflections of the mirror as shadows of the objects she could she in the outside world. The setting is remarkably similar, with the Lady weaving the impressions she gets from her mirror into the endless tapestry while the men in Plato’s Cave talk of the shadows they perceive as the actual objects by which they are cast. One can sense the Lady’s dissatisfaction with the confinement not only of her body but also of her perception and once she has taken a direct glimpse through the window – encouraged by the splendour of the passing knight Sir Lancelot – it becomes clear to her that she cannot go on living the way she has up to now. Realizing that the tower has become too small for her, she embarks on a journey down the river – the journey of actively living her life – at the cost of losing apparent certainties she may have held dear for so long. We can say that the Lady has chosen the red pill over the blue one and finally started living her life truly, which has taken her into the scope of Death. It may be that my interpretation in the light of the Allegory of the Cave was partly encouraged by the global situation we are currently experiencing and that a couple of years ago, I would not have interpreted the poem in the same way. Regardless of my stance on the question whether the restrictions we suddenly find ourselves under can really be justified by the need to contain a disease like Covid, the mirror has cracked, anyway. Two years ago, I would have said that our civil rights and individual liberties are the bedrock of our western societies and that most people would not suffer them to be taken away or restricted with a single stroke of a pen. Now I even find a considerable majority of my fellow humans even applauding this unprecedented measure as a means of saving their lives. Even if we are “allowed” to get back these time-honoured rights and the government returns to a policy of respect for people’s privacy – I am very pessimistic as to this last of the two “if”s –, I can say that the mirror is cracked once and for all for me because the readiness many people showed to put their implicit trust in their governments, and to give up basic principles originally set up as safeguards against the high-handedness of the mighty as well as the quickness with which doubts and reservations were tainted with the odium of hygienic treason – all this came as a shock to me, and I hope it is not too dramatic for me to say that I have lost my confidence in society and many people around me. Mind you: I am not saying that there is a conspiracy going on or that it is all a sham, lacking the medical knowledge to come to a final conclusion here, but still, I realized that what I took for a general respect for civilizational standards and rules were nothing but shadows.
And now, I find myself floating down a river of naked awareness.
July 7, 2017
This is the only Tennyson that I have ever read and I really enjoyed it.
I would definitely be interested in reading more Tennyson - any recommendations would be very welcome.
I would definitely be interested in reading more Tennyson - any recommendations would be very welcome.
March 3, 2017
I had to read this book today for work purposes. Oh my God, I loved it so much!
I would recommend knowing the plot BEFORE reading it! That really helps with Tennyson or any form of ballad, I think.
In the space of about a day, I fell in love with a poem. Who knew what joys work could bring!!!
I initially gave this five stars because I loved the experience but as a poem, it can get quite forgettable after a while and I was having doubts so I took this down to four stars.
I would recommend knowing the plot BEFORE reading it! That really helps with Tennyson or any form of ballad, I think.
In the space of about a day, I fell in love with a poem. Who knew what joys work could bring!!!
I initially gave this five stars because I loved the experience but as a poem, it can get quite forgettable after a while and I was having doubts so I took this down to four stars.
May 4, 2016
This story is loosely based on the tale of Elaine of Astolat, and of her love for Lancelot, which in this poem brings upon her a curse that leaves her dead. Arthurian legends defined my childhood, so it is only basic that such a poem would mark me.
The Lady cannot look upon the people, so she stares through a mirror at the road and sees Lancelot, and falls in love with him, her desire to go after him, but most importantly break free, dooms her.
"Under tower and balcony,
By garden wall and gallery,
A pale, pale corpse she floated by,
Deadcold, between the houses high,
Dead into tower'd Camelot.
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
To the planked wharfage came:
Below the stern they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott."
This poem has been so influential in society that just for simple reference:
In other literature it is referred, in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark, where Miss Jean Brodie reads the poem to her class. Alice Munro refers to some of the lines of this ballad in her short story "Save the Reaper" ("Only the reapers, reaping early", and "And by the moon the reaper weary"). It was also one of the few things I enjoyed in Avalon High, where at the beginning of every chapter there is a stanza from this.
In music I am not so well versed, but there is a lovely piano piece called "La dame de Shalotte", by Olivier Messiaen.(Also do we not get a vibe of this poem in the Band Perry's song "If I Die Young", because I kind of do.)
This is such a beautiful poem, and I cannot recommend it enough.
The Lady cannot look upon the people, so she stares through a mirror at the road and sees Lancelot, and falls in love with him, her desire to go after him, but most importantly break free, dooms her.
"Under tower and balcony,
By garden wall and gallery,
A pale, pale corpse she floated by,
Deadcold, between the houses high,
Dead into tower'd Camelot.
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
To the planked wharfage came:
Below the stern they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott."
This poem has been so influential in society that just for simple reference:
In other literature it is referred, in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark, where Miss Jean Brodie reads the poem to her class. Alice Munro refers to some of the lines of this ballad in her short story "Save the Reaper" ("Only the reapers, reaping early", and "And by the moon the reaper weary"). It was also one of the few things I enjoyed in Avalon High, where at the beginning of every chapter there is a stanza from this.
In music I am not so well versed, but there is a lovely piano piece called "La dame de Shalotte", by Olivier Messiaen.(Also do we not get a vibe of this poem in the Band Perry's song "If I Die Young", because I kind of do.)
This is such a beautiful poem, and I cannot recommend it enough.
July 2, 2013
Lanetlendiği için Camelot'un yüksek kulelerinden birine hapsedilen bir kadını anlatır. Kadının kuleden dışarı bakması kesinlikle yasaktır, eğer dışarı çıkarsa ya da pencereden bakarsa ölecektir.
Tek avuntusu kulenin duvarına asılı olan bir aynanın gösterdikleridir. Bazen güneşli bir sabahta göğe uzanan sazları, bazen de iki aşık çiftin el ele dolaşmalarını izler.
Sonra günlerden bir gün şovalyelerin gelişini görür. Başlarında Sir Lancelot vardır. Sir Lancelot o kadar muhteşem, o kadar ulaşılmaz görünür ki ona oracıkta aşık olur. Ve laneti de ölümü de boş verip kuleden aşağı koşmaya başlar. Dışarı çıkar ve bir sal bulur. Lancelot nehrin karşısındadır. Sala biner ve sürmeye başlar. Tam ona ulaşacakken lanete yenik düşer, önce nefes alamaz olur, sonra kalbi yavaşlar... Dudakları beyazlar, gözleri kapanır...
Lancelot'un şovalyeleri nehir kıyısına çarpan salı görünce merak edip giderler ve içindeki ölü kadını görünce şok olurlar. Gürültüyü duran Lancelot'ta gelir ve der ki : "Bu Lady de kim ? Çok güzel bir yüzü varmış, Tanrı'nın merhameti onunla olsun."
Ve Lancelot, kadının laneti onun için karşısına aldığını, ona geldiğini ve onun aşkı için öldüğünü asla bilemez...
Tek avuntusu kulenin duvarına asılı olan bir aynanın gösterdikleridir. Bazen güneşli bir sabahta göğe uzanan sazları, bazen de iki aşık çiftin el ele dolaşmalarını izler.
Sonra günlerden bir gün şovalyelerin gelişini görür. Başlarında Sir Lancelot vardır. Sir Lancelot o kadar muhteşem, o kadar ulaşılmaz görünür ki ona oracıkta aşık olur. Ve laneti de ölümü de boş verip kuleden aşağı koşmaya başlar. Dışarı çıkar ve bir sal bulur. Lancelot nehrin karşısındadır. Sala biner ve sürmeye başlar. Tam ona ulaşacakken lanete yenik düşer, önce nefes alamaz olur, sonra kalbi yavaşlar... Dudakları beyazlar, gözleri kapanır...
Lancelot'un şovalyeleri nehir kıyısına çarpan salı görünce merak edip giderler ve içindeki ölü kadını görünce şok olurlar. Gürültüyü duran Lancelot'ta gelir ve der ki : "Bu Lady de kim ? Çok güzel bir yüzü varmış, Tanrı'nın merhameti onunla olsun."
Ve Lancelot, kadının laneti onun için karşısına aldığını, ona geldiğini ve onun aşkı için öldüğünü asla bilemez...
May 8, 2023
This. This right here is my kind of poetry!!! And now I get why Anne Shirley loves this poem. :)
December 24, 2011
Mysterious, full of life, beauty, colors, and of passion: The Lady of Shalott is one of the most beautiful poems I've ever read. The skilful hands of painter John William Waterhouse -through his collection of paintings illustrating this tale- were the first to make me acquainted with the poem, and then there was Loreena Mckennitt's wonderful lyrical cover of the ballad. Thus the myth of The Lady of Shalott combines my favourite three forms of sublime art: poetry, music, and painting.
The description of Sir Lancelot in the following stanza is breathtaking:
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
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 lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
Tirra lirra... This is simply pure perfection.
The description of Sir Lancelot in the following stanza is breathtaking:
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
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 lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
Tirra lirra... This is simply pure perfection.
April 28, 2017
“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 look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.”
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.”
April 15, 2024
This is such a beautiful, lyrical poem. I love the imagery in this and there are so many ways to interpret Tennyson’s meanings. I particularly loved this illustrated edition by Genevieve Cote. Her unique art brought the poem to life in a whole new way for me.
March 26, 2023
My first introduction to this poem, and indeed to Tennyson, came through Anne of Green Gables. And now that I have finally read "The Lady of Shalott" in its entirety, I'm as captivated by its haunting melancholy and mythological musicality as Anne.
October 1, 2023
Read for class.
For someone who isn't a fan of poems, I really enjoyed this.
Also, it's making me want to visit Anne of Green Gables.
For someone who isn't a fan of poems, I really enjoyed this.
Also, it's making me want to visit Anne of Green Gables.
August 28, 2012
This poem has left me with a calm melancholy. Beauty, art, deprivation, infatuation, and a tragic liberating ending, it has it all.
I read the scanned papers of a beautiful edition by Mead Dodd with splendid illustrations, published in 1881. It elevated the poetry to a whole different level.
This ballad, in my opinion deals with human nature, its needs and longings. The Lady of Shalott is a woman who's under a curse that she knows nothing about its cause. Forced to see the world in a two dimensional form through a mirror, deprived from living a normal life like everyone else and lives in a dark shadowy castle. She ignores that at first by distracting herself as she weaves a tapestry picture of the reflections she sees in the mirror. Then, sparks of jealousy and dissatisfaction arise as she compares her dull life with the lives of the villagers. It reaches a point where love comes in, when a dazzling knight enchants her soul with his singing, she can no longer bear her imprisoned will and looks out to see his face. She only sees his helmet and the feather upon it, though. Knowing her doomed fate, she cares less about anything and leaves the castle. She lives her last moments of liberation as the water of the river drifts her boat and while she's singing her song.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turned to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The Lady of Shalott
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
I think the most saddening part of the poem was the last stanza.. All the villagers who she was jealous of and the knight who leaded her somehow to her tragic death didn't even know about her existence and all their commentaries on her death were cold and shallow.
Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd 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."
I read the scanned papers of a beautiful edition by Mead Dodd with splendid illustrations, published in 1881. It elevated the poetry to a whole different level.
This ballad, in my opinion deals with human nature, its needs and longings. The Lady of Shalott is a woman who's under a curse that she knows nothing about its cause. Forced to see the world in a two dimensional form through a mirror, deprived from living a normal life like everyone else and lives in a dark shadowy castle. She ignores that at first by distracting herself as she weaves a tapestry picture of the reflections she sees in the mirror. Then, sparks of jealousy and dissatisfaction arise as she compares her dull life with the lives of the villagers. It reaches a point where love comes in, when a dazzling knight enchants her soul with his singing, she can no longer bear her imprisoned will and looks out to see his face. She only sees his helmet and the feather upon it, though. Knowing her doomed fate, she cares less about anything and leaves the castle. She lives her last moments of liberation as the water of the river drifts her boat and while she's singing her song.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turned to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The Lady of Shalott
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
I think the most saddening part of the poem was the last stanza.. All the villagers who she was jealous of and the knight who leaded her somehow to her tragic death didn't even know about her existence and all their commentaries on her death were cold and shallow.
Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd 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."
October 22, 2022
First read in college; reread ten years later in Oct 2022.
Lots of fascinating things going on in this poem. Chivalry. Romanticism. Some Victorian sensibility. Bits of Plato.
Apparently "I am half sick of shadows" is from here, not Shakespeare.
Knowing this poem gives more meaning to the scene where Anne, in a sinking boat, encounters Gilbert in Anne of Green Gables.
Read the full poem here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem...
Loreena McKennitt sings a beautiful version here: https://open.spotify.com/track/1GUCRO...
Lots of fascinating things going on in this poem. Chivalry. Romanticism. Some Victorian sensibility. Bits of Plato.
Apparently "I am half sick of shadows" is from here, not Shakespeare.
Knowing this poem gives more meaning to the scene where Anne, in a sinking boat, encounters Gilbert in Anne of Green Gables.
Read the full poem here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem...
Loreena McKennitt sings a beautiful version here: https://open.spotify.com/track/1GUCRO...
August 16, 2009
I haven't seen this illustrated version, I'll have to find it.
For anyone who really likes this poem, I recommend picking up a critical edition such as Ricks' Tennyson, which shows changes the poet made, sometimes even after the original publication. Mostly notably, in earlier versions of the poem the Lady arrives still alive before the knights and makes a declaration before dying; this was later changed to the standard version where she arrives already deceased and "has a lovely face."
For anyone who really likes this poem, I recommend picking up a critical edition such as Ricks' Tennyson, which shows changes the poet made, sometimes even after the original publication. Mostly notably, in earlier versions of the poem the Lady arrives still alive before the knights and makes a declaration before dying; this was later changed to the standard version where she arrives already deceased and "has a lovely face."
April 6, 2012
The entire poem is given in the description and I just read it twice.
Here is the tragedy of love.
The tragedy of weaving your world the way you expect it to be.
The desire to risk everything you have for the want of that fleeting moment.
The curse of seeing the world through something else then your own eyes.
The mark on your possessions so that everyone would know who you were when you are gone.
The fatal nature of the very thing that you always wanted to have the most.
The recognition gained by you at your life's expense.
And the grace of death.
This is a beautiful poem and I am sure I would like to read it again and again in the days to come just to live through it again. Let's see if I gain more.
Here is the tragedy of love.
The tragedy of weaving your world the way you expect it to be.
The desire to risk everything you have for the want of that fleeting moment.
The curse of seeing the world through something else then your own eyes.
The mark on your possessions so that everyone would know who you were when you are gone.
The fatal nature of the very thing that you always wanted to have the most.
The recognition gained by you at your life's expense.
And the grace of death.
This is a beautiful poem and I am sure I would like to read it again and again in the days to come just to live through it again. Let's see if I gain more.
June 9, 2017
This is Anne of Green Gables favorite poem!! And it's one of my favorites as well!
Willows whiten, aspens shiver.
The sunbeam showers break and quiver
In the stream that runneth 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.
February 2, 2020
Sometimes poetry hits you with unexpected emotion. One of my favorites, Tennyson never disappoints. If you prefer to listen to a condensed version, may I suggest Loreena McKennit's cover on YouTube. It is hauntingly beautiful. The magic of Camelot is captured here in verse.
January 25, 2021
Aunque llegue a esta lectura gracias a "Ana la de las tejas verdes" me parece un poema épico muy recomendado para cualquiera que se apasione por la leyenda Artúrica, es un poema muy triste y a la vez hermoso, cargado de romance.
Read
December 19, 2021haunting, nevertheless incredibly beautiful
May 20, 2010
I'm bored at work and was just messing around goodreads when I happened upon this. Low and behold, the entire poem is in the description. Take a few minutes out of your day and read this beautiful poem. I guarantee you'll want to take a few minutes out of a few more days to read it again.
Arthurian legends are so full of adventure and intrigue that they are near irresistible in and of themselves, but turn prose to verse and you suddenly have something else entirely more magical (like one of my other favorites, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight). In a world where the Lady of Shalott exists, you could very well expect all manner of fae, cursed woods and witches. Everything about this poem opens the imagination; the poem itself is just one example of multitude other stories to be told about those living along the river leading to Camelot.
Arthurian legends are so full of adventure and intrigue that they are near irresistible in and of themselves, but turn prose to verse and you suddenly have something else entirely more magical (like one of my other favorites, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight). In a world where the Lady of Shalott exists, you could very well expect all manner of fae, cursed woods and witches. Everything about this poem opens the imagination; the poem itself is just one example of multitude other stories to be told about those living along the river leading to Camelot.
October 12, 2017
The quote Van Halen (if I'm allowed) "How do you know when it's love?"
Well, with Tennyson is very simple. Read "Ulysses" and you're done. Then you might as well read "The Lady of Shallot", which I did, and now I need an edition that collects all his work.
As I said - simple.
P.S. "All Things Will Die" is ❤
Well, with Tennyson is very simple. Read "Ulysses" and you're done. Then you might as well read "The Lady of Shallot", which I did, and now I need an edition that collects all his work.
As I said - simple.
P.S. "All Things Will Die" is ❤
June 7, 2016
I am half sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shalott. Oh my goodness I loved this so much! I haven't read much poetry, but this was stunning. I want to reread it right now. And maybe daily until I've memorized it...Absolutely lovely.
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