Favourite Poem

My favourite poem is The Lady of Shalott.  When I was about 12 I had an elocution teacher: Madam Hagney.  She would have been 80 in the shade I reckon.  She was a sight to behold.  About 45 kg ringing wet.  Grey hair teased, a hat perhaps and she always wore a crimplene suit.  Her face powder fell like fine snow flakes on her shoulders.  Her lipstick was roughly painted on deeply furrowed lips.  We all stood to attention when she arrived at our classroom door and said Good Morning.  She taught us The Lady of Shalott and I will always remember her and the poem. 

I wanted to do something more appropriate in style of John William Waterhouse (I might add his  painting of the Lady of Shalott is one of my all time favourites in the Tate) or perhaps go West to shoot fields of Rye or Barley, or perhaps an Island in the river, or a cracked mirror, or a shining knight, however today being a work day, time simply did not permit anything special.  There is a line when the Lady sees  young lovers and despairs of looking at the reflected world.  These two are not young lovers but young at heart and you could almost imagine that Nobbys are the towers of Camelot.  I have extracted the verse below.  For the full version see here

Thanks so much to SK for hosting.


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.