Author Topic: Victoria's Poetry Stop (Read 55861 times)

Clay Death · « **Reply #180 on:** March 05, 2016, 10:40:15 pm »

The Lady of Shalott (1832)

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Part I

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

To many-tower'd Camelot;

The yellow-leaved waterlily

The green-sheathed daffodilly

Tremble in the water chilly

Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver.

The sunbeam showers break and quiver

In the stream that runneth ever

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 imbowers

The Lady of Shalott.

Underneath the bearded barley,

The reaper, reaping late and early,

Hears her ever chanting cheerly,

Like an angel, singing clearly,

O'er the stream of Camelot.

Piling the sheaves in furrows airy,

Beneath the moon, the reaper weary

Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy,

Lady of Shalott.'

The little isle is all inrail'd

With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd

With roses: by the marge unhail'd

The shallop flitteth silken sail'd,

Skimming down to Camelot.

A pearl garland winds her head:

She leaneth on a velvet bed,

Full royally apparelled,

The Lady of Shalott.

Part II

No time hath she to sport and play:

A charmed web she weaves alway.

A curse is on her, if she stay

Her weaving, either night or day,

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be;

Therefore she weaveth steadily,

Therefore no other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear.

Over the water, running near,

The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.

Before her hangs a mirror clear,

Reflecting tower'd Camelot.

And as the mazy web she whirls,

She sees the surly village churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls

Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad,

Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,

Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,

Goes by to tower'd Camelot:

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror's magic sights,

For often thro' the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

And music, came from Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead

Came two young lovers lately wed;

'I am half sick of shadows,' said

The Lady of Shalott.

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,

And flam'd upon the brazen greaves

Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down from Camelot:

And from his blazon'd baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burn'd like one burning flame together,

As he rode down from Camelot.

As often thro' the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over green Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow'd

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down from Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash'd into the crystal mirror,

'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:'

Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom

She made three paces thro' the room

She saw the water-flower bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

'The curse is come upon me,' cried

The Lady of Shalott.

Part IV

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;

Outside the isle a shallow boat

Beneath a willow lay afloat,

Below the carven stern she wrote,

The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight,

All raimented in snowy white

That loosely flew (her zone in sight

Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright)

Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot,

Though the squally east-wind keenly

Blew, with folded arms serenely

By the water stood the queenly

Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance—

Like some bold seer in a trance,

Beholding all his own mischance,

Mute, with a glassy countenance—

She look'd down to Camelot.

It was the closing of the day:

She loos'd the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

The Lady of Shalott.

As when to sailors while they roam,

By creeks and outfalls far from home,

Rising and dropping with the foam,

From dying swans wild warblings come,

Blown shoreward; so to Camelot

Still as the boathead wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her chanting her deathsong,

The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,

She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her eyes were darken'd wholly,

And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly,

Turn'd to tower'd Camelot:

For ere she reach'd upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,

By garden wall and gallery,

A pale, pale corpse she floated by,

Deadcold, between the houses high,

Dead into tower'd Camelot.

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

To the planked wharfage came:

Below the stern they read her name,

The Lady of Shalott.

They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest,

Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest.

There lay a parchment on her breast,

That puzzled more than all the rest,

The wellfed wits at Camelot.

'The web was woven curiously,

The charm is broken utterly,

Draw near and fear not,—this is I,

The Lady of Shalott.'

Clay Death · « **Reply #181 on:** March 05, 2016, 10:49:45 pm »

The Accolade

Fighting mid the strong and bold,
His eye and blade were keen;
Marching like a thund'ring storm
On foes of Faith, his queen.

Now returned in victory
Upon his mighty bay,
Set he off to Langley Tow'r
Her summons to obey.

"John the Squire," the footman called,
And held the oaken door;
Faith, it seemed, had gleaming eyes
Like never once before.

"John! 'tis good to see thee hale,"
The queen exclaimed, and rose:
Tales have sped to Langley's gates
Of many broken bows."

"God has saved me whole and well,
By prayers, I ween, of thee;
Tell me please, my lady Queen
What service I may be."

Saying thus, the squire bowed
And doffed his burnished helm;
Struck in awe by Faith, his love,
The queen of Arthur's realm.

"Gilbert saith," rehearsed the queen,
"That deeds of thee are done
Greater yet than those of Wat
Or even Henry's son."

Tears bedecked her youthful face,
And glistened in the light;
John the Squire, as she had hoped,
Had done her favour right.

"Nay!" the humble squire cried,
"This word is not so true!
How could I, the meanest squire,
Perform the deeds they do?"

"Hush!" It was a firm command;
"I'll hear these lies no more;
Kneel before me, Squire John,
A knight shall leave the door."

Down before the queen he knelt,
He pledged his knighthood true;
Swore her ev'ry small command
With cheerful heart to do.

From his side she drew his sword,
She struck the accolade;
"Thus the greatest knight," she said,
"Is from a squire made."

From her hand the sword did fall,
It clashed upon a stone:
"John, if battle claimed thy life,
How could I be alone?"

"God has prospered all my ways;
My Queen, I praythee, cease!
Soon these wars shall claim our foes,
And Britain be in peace."

Faith remained there by her throne,
With light upon her hair;
Not one maid of Camelot
Was even half so fair.

"God be with thee evermore,"
She bravely said at last;
"Guard and keep thee from the foe
Until the very last."

John the Knight farewell did bid,
And swiftly rode away:
When the wars were hammered out,
He'd be a king in May.

For the Famous Art contest. Inspired by the painting "The Accolade" -1901 by Edmund Blair Leighton.

pryzmsticv · « **Reply #182 on:** March 06, 2016, 02:31:50 am »

Fantastic indeed, Mi Lord, TENNISON ov great finesse, plus the others with no beauty less. The admiration ov words that you have bestowed with great success. Prose ov such worthiness Mi Lord. Will your heart ever surpass the beauty ov this art. I bow slightly to the right sire with the admiration ov luv you have inspired. 😚

Divine Metamorphoses · « **Reply #183 on:** March 06, 2016, 02:46:32 am »

Greetings!
Lovely prose by Lady V and General CD!

Keep them coming
Love and light
Divine

Clay Death · « **Reply #184 on:** March 06, 2016, 07:52:44 am »

great to see you here lady Divine at lady V's poetry stop.

glad you are enjoying the poetry here.

pryzmsticv · « **Reply #185 on:** March 06, 2016, 08:22:28 pm »

Thank you both my dears, appreciated so much. Luv yas😚

Clay Death · « **Reply #186 on:** March 06, 2016, 08:28:18 pm »

Camelot of Love

Amongst many, feeling so lonely,
Strange situation life has brought
And all hopes placed on one, last stand.
One that sets you free,
turning gray walls into blue skies.

Encouraged by shimmering visions in mind,
Seeking something that has already died,
Within modern walls its freedom denied.
Yet, will and spirit remain
With little to lose and much to gain,
To go on decision is made.

Subtle kiss moon has blown
To lost wanderer walking alone,
Traces of light it has shown,
Towering over his dream,
Camelot of love.

Awaken by dawn he marches on,
In hopes of finding what cannot be found.
And so his quest goes on,
Passing shapeless halls,
Guided by lights already gone.

Restless nights haunt him now
Unable to put mind at ease
Not knowing how to sleep
Not knowing how to please.

Last night he heard a voice
Brought from far by a whispering wall
Saying you don't have to win it all,
Just be your own.
Thus this chapter to end is drawn,
Of a story with ending unknown.

Amongst many, feeling so lonely,
Strange situation life has brought
And all hopes placed on one, last stand.
One that sets you free,
turning gray walls into blue skies.

By Davor Miljkovic

Clay Death · « **Reply #187 on:** March 06, 2016, 08:31:05 pm »

Holographic Love

In the land of Camelot
Some did see and some did not
Dragons Demons and a Witches’ brew
This is a tale of a Love I once knew

The Warlocks portal did resonate
As the creatures passed through their hellish gate
The Wizard Merlin did magically appear
Warning all that the deception was near

Holographic Love had never been so strong
Lures you and allures you with merriment and song
A damsel in distress I took the call
The illusion began as I climbed it's wall

Now within the Grand Delusion
Love’s thorns put me in seclusion
Was this Love real or was it not?
And yet I thought of myself as Sir Lancelot.

By Winged Warrior

Clay Death · « **Reply #188 on:** March 06, 2016, 08:41:03 pm »

Return To Camelot

I dreamed once more of Camelot ~ where King Arthur's castle stood.
And of all the battles fought ~ on hills of majestic oaks in the wood.
Twas there this foolish maid ~ whilst walking amongst the flowers
Saw great reason to be afraid ~ when I foolishly left my castle tower.

Over yon hill, too close to me ~ hundreds of warriors on the march
Their columns stretched to the sea ~ many carried a lighted torch.
Charging steeds and men advance ~ I feared I'd be their first kill
Would I be pierced by a lance ~ Would I die upon this flowered hill

Twas then I saw from Arthur's bridge ~ his legions of gallant knights
Long fought the battle upon the ridge ~ I witnessed the bloody fights.
On they raged; many strong men fell ~ outside the gates of Camelot
Entranced was I, as if held in a spell ~ Watching o'er the wooded plot.

Too late I heard the sound of steel ~ danger approached from behind
I feared that now I'd know the feel ~ of the lance. Fear was not blind.
My sorrow took control of me ~ I would miss my home in Camelot
Nay, twas then a knight I did see ~ my beloved hero, Sir Lancelot.

His buckler shone in the moonlight ~ high above the thunder boomed.
His sword was swung with all his might ~ his opponent was doomed.
With strength of arm he lifted me ~ upon his steed we rode to Camelot.
We shared a kiss, or was it three ~ twas with my knight I was besot.

This romantic tale recurs oft' to me ~ when Lancelot and I were young
Of the day my hero set me free ~ our story by bards has been sung
Still besotted with my brave knight ~ we live on, not only in the tale.
Our love shines on with the light ~ in a love that's never grown stale.

By Lin Lane

pryzmsticv · « **Reply #189 on:** March 06, 2016, 08:42:02 pm »

HUNGER

My thoughts hunger true, visions ov me laying there with you.
Cradled within your arms, kissing your soft lips.
Suppressing the warmth, ov your heart.
Soft Caresses ov my mind, tastes ov wine.
Gentle my sips, to breath ov you.
Deeper the start, craving you to hold.
Sweet touches, ov my soul.
Makes me quiver, loosing control.
Making luv to you, will never grow old.
Visions ov my hunger, surrenders to you, my soul.

pryzmsticv · « **Reply #190 on:** March 06, 2016, 08:49:59 pm »

Beautiful the prose my dear, with such perseverance you do find.
Completely blows my mind.
With a heart such as yours, it is easy to see.
With the visions, ov your mind.
Nothing from you, is there to hide.
Thank you, for sharing, Mi Lord

Clay Death · « **Reply #191 on:** March 06, 2016, 09:00:30 pm »

Clay Death · « **Reply #192 on:** March 06, 2016, 09:00:56 pm »

Clay Death · « **Reply #193 on:** March 06, 2016, 09:01:40 pm »

Quote from: pryzmsticv on March 06, 2016, 08:42:02 pm

HUNGER

My thoughts hunger true, visions ov me laying there with you.
Cradled within your arms, kissing your soft lips.
Suppressing the warmth, ov your heart.
Soft Caresses ov my mind, tastes ov wine.
Gentle my sips, to breath ov you.
Deeper the start, craving you to hold.
Sweet touches, ov my soul.
Makes me quiver, loosing control.
Making luv to you, will never grow old.
Visions ov my hunger, surrenders to you, my soul.

wonderful prose lady V.

pryzmsticv · « **Reply #194 on:** March 06, 2016, 09:10:08 pm »

Beautiful my dear.
I luv the effects ov the sparkle dear, and the glow of your art.
Its an inspiration to my heart, with prose iv which I must start.
Thank you again sharing Mi Lord😚

CAMELOT FANTASIES

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Author Topic: Victoria's Poetry Stop (Read 55861 times)

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