Avalon High

by Meg Cabot

Eminem is ideal to listen to while running, because he’s so mad at everyone.

I’m sick of the Lady of Shalott. Her and her stupid robes of snowy white, loosely flying left and right.

There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot.

Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed; “I am half sick of shadows,” said 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:

Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, And her eyes were darken’d wholly, 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 gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into 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.

Who is this? and what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they cross’d themselves for fear, All the Knights at Camelot:

But Lancelot mused a little space; He said, “She has a lovely face; God in His mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.”