"There she weaves by night and day a sacred web with colors gay. And moving through a window clear that stands before her all the year, young lads of the world appear, there she sees the highway near, winding down to Camelot. There the river eddy whirls, and 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- haired page in crimson clad goes by to Camelot. And sometimes through the window blue the knights come riding two by two. She hath no loyal knight and true the Lady of Shalott."