In the stormy east-wind straining,The pale yellow woods were waning,The broad stream in his banks co
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 boatBeneath a willow left afloat,And round about the prow she wrote The Lady of Shalott.—Heard a carol, mournful, holy,Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,Till her blood was frozen slowly,And her eyes were darken’d wholly, Turn’d to tower’d Camelot.For ere she reach’d upon the tideThe first house by the water-side,Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott. -- source link
#illustration#watercolor#gouache#medieval art