Yorkshire Art Journal

‘In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining, Heavily the low sky raining Over tower’d Camelot; Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat, And round about the prow she wrote The Lady of Shalott.     And down the river’s dim expanse – Like some bold seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance – With a glassy countenance […]