Page:Poems (IA poemstennalfr00tennrich).pdf/31

 Knight and burgher, lord and dame, To the plankèd 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."