But in her web she still delightsTo weave the mirror’s magic sights,For often thro’ the
But in her web she still delightsTo weave the mirror’s magic sights,For often thro’ the silent nightsA funeral, with plumes and lights And music, went to Camelot:Or when the moon was overhead,Came two young lovers lately wed:“I am half sick of shadows,” said The Lady of Shalott. -- source link
#illustration#watercolor#gouache#medieval art