Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/847

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LORD TENNYSON

All day within the dreamy house,The doors upon their hinges creak'd;The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouseBehind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd,Or from the crevice peer'd about.Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors,Old footsteps trod the upper floors,Old voices call'd her from without.She only said, 'My life is dreary,He cometh not,' she said;She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,'I would that I were dead!'
The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,The slow clock ticking, and the soundWhich to the wooing wind aloofThe poplar made, did all confoundHer sense; but most she loathed the hourWhen the thick-moted sunbeam layAthwart the chambers, and the dayWas sloping toward his western bower.Then, said she, 'I am very dreary,He will not come,' she said;She wept, 'I am aweary, aweary,O God, that I were dead!'
700.
The Lady of Shalott
Part IOn either side the river lieLong fields of barley and of rye,That clothe the wold and meet the sky;And thro' the field the road runs byTo many-tower'd Camelot;

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