Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Drowning

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 Shallot.
-Tennyson 






 
               

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