Journey



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.

-Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892),
The Lady of Shalott







images © 2000 by Randy Wang
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