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 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 seër 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– Thro’ 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.
Hey Omar. You're certainly doing well with the Holga! You inspired me to buy a plastic camera too - though not mastered it yet. Hope to get some results up here soon. Hvae had a dry patch photo wise - nothing has really made the grade. trying to get back into it! Great work - and good to hear from you. Hope all area well. Cheers, Ed
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