Time lets its subtle depths half-open. (Doors shielding one another; pushing open, one to another; the spoors and traces of the sea.) This autumn of kindling wood, drifts of leaves. At its heart, forests of pleasure where the light shines through; its ivies, involved: gold: light in leaf everywhere: fire raked and rooted, a metallic flowering, and the finest moss, incandescent.
But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, ........The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, ........Down to tower'd Camelot: And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers " 'Tis the fairy ........Lady of Shalott."