In hard sunbright armor
He rode by the river
A curse fair unleashed
Was all he could give her
A hundred puzzled faces
In a cracked crystal mirror
Did he know what he did
When he sang, "Tirra lirra?"
'Twas the strength of his voice
That pulled her 'cross the room
And yet did not save her
From the curse of the loom
A hundred chilled teardrops
In a cracked crystal mirror
Did he know what he did
When he sang, "Tirra lirra?"
"But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, 'She has a lovely face.
God in his mercy lend her grace...
The Lady of Shallot.'"
If ye have a chance, ask Haluska about this'n sometime. 'Tis a fair wild tale in it's entirety, and one of my favorites.
3 comments:
This is you right, writing in the style of Tennyson? Or is this one of his works? I honestly don't know, but either way, I like it a lot. The meter and rhyme is brilliant.
Aw, Ben, you crack me up. The italicized bit is the original, which I recommend as one of my absoballylutely favorites. Truly brilliant. Mine is just mine. ;)
Yours is stellar.
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