Faeries, The Fay & The Hidden > Faeries & The Fay
One of my favourite Faery poems:
Voo:
Very pretty poem
Lena:
Shadowling, I have to agree. That just may be my favourite faery poem as well. Have you heard Loreena McKennit's song? She sings that. She also sings The Lady of Shalott. Very lovely.
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 a road runs by
To many-towered 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 forever
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 embowers
The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow-veiled
Slide the heavy barges trailed
By slow horses, and unhailed
The shallop flitteth silken-sailed
Skimming down to Camelot
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known through 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 flowing clearly
Down to towered Camelot
And by the moon the reaper weary
Piling sheaves in uplands airy
Listening, whispers, "'Tis the faery
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-haired page in crimson clad
Goes by to towered 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 bowshot from her bower-eaves
He rode between the barley-sheaves
The sun came dazzling through the leaves
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot
A red-cross knight forever kneeled
To a lady in his shield
That sparkled on the yellow field
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glittered 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 blazoned baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung
And as he rode his armour rung
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewelled shone the saddle eather
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burned like one burning flame together
As he rode down to Camelot
As often through the purple night
Below the starry clusters bright
Some bearded meteor, trailing light
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed
On burnished hooves his war-horse trode
From underneath his helmet flowed
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 looked down to Camelot
Out flew the web and floated wide
The mirror cracked 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 towered Camelot
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat
And round 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
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
For ere she reached upon the tide
The first house by the waterside
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 round 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 of 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."
Whew...done. Not sure about all the punctuation, typing from memory.
Shadowling:
*Laughs* That's incredible. All from memory. I copied and pasted mine from a site.
You are correct, that is a stunning poem as well. Poems like those make poems written by me look very awkward. Thank you for sharing.
Lena:
Ah, Shadowling, art thou a poet? I would like to read some of yours, if ye don't find them too embarrassing to share.
Alas, my memory only works so well for poetry. It would be nice if I could sometimes remember, say...when I have homework, or how to solve complicated equations...
And here's another one! Not from memory this time. But I want to memorize this...and Stolen Child...and many more...
Cymbeline
Fear no more the heat o' th' sun
Nor the furious winters' rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' th' great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke.
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor th' all-dreaded thunder stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have,
And renowned by thy grave!
jewelspirit:
Very beautiful, Shadowling
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