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Part I 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 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 gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle of imbowers 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 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 towered Camelot; And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers "íTis the fairy Lady of Shalott." Part II