AS I stepped off the ferryman’s boat, about to return to Camelot after my daily walk in Ashford Woods, I had the most wonderful walk down to the castle, which I shall duly describe; I started ambling down the fair country lane when a troop of young damsels frolicked past picking daisies and gaily singing a song of spring. They had red cloaks on and yellow tunics made of silk. They bore red slippers on their feet. Then, as I passed the Castle of Shallot, I heard an eerie voice singing a sombre song, which floated down the river, and drifted to the wolds of barley and corn.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please leave your message, look at my questions, and rate!