Poem of the Week ~ The Lady of Shalott, Part II

Happy July!  I hope this new month finds you well.  I myself awoke this morning to a refreshing optimism and determination to preserve and cultivate my total trust in the Lord.  Although I remain unemployed, I refuse to let a day pass me by without making the most of it.  As I pursue different job leads, I integrate time for prayer and creativity on a daily basis.  I know that God has a plan for me, and as long as I place firmly my faith in Him and work alongside Him to the best of my ability, then I can fall asleep at night knowing that everything will be all right.  Even when my circumstances are not what I wish they were, I must remember that there is immeasurable beauty in my life.  I am incredibly blessed to be a member of a loving family, and my devoted fiance, Jeffrey, and I are exactly four months away from celebrating our wedding.  I have loved and will continue to love, and the love that I receive in return is enough to soften my heart even during the most stressful of times.  I will strive to hold on to the love of my Father, my family, and my fiance, and pray without ceasing, "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner."

Now for our poem of the week:  

The Lady of Shalott 

 Part II

 

No time hath she to sport and play:

A charmed web she weaves alway.

A curse is on her, if she stay

Her weaving, either night or day

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be;

Therefore she weaveth steadily,

Therefore no other care hath she, 

The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear.

Over the water, running near,

The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.

Before her hangs a mirror clear,

Reflecting tower'd Camelot.

And as the mazy web she whirls,

She sees 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-hair'd page in crimson clad,

Goes by to tower'd Camelot:

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror's magic sights,

For often thro' the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

And music, came from Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead

Came two young lovers lately wed;

I am half sick of shadows,' said

  The Lady of Shalott. 

How do you react to the bittersweet language of Part II?