Part I

Just unlike the tenant last
I know from whence my curse was cast:
His reflection in the looking glass
His cold-strike stare sent me, alas,
 To this place that time forgot.
By no will of my own decree
I’m prisoner in this island keep
Left here to forever be
 The Master of Shalott.

The night may look to wax and wane,
But hope for morning is in vain.
The sky’s light by the curse was drain’d
‘Till only night’s sheath still remain’d
 In this place that time forgot.
Where outside the wind is daunting
With its storm and long-row howling
And the lonely cat keeps yowling
 to its Master of Shalott.

I recall a light on the water shown,
When the silk-sail’d shallop was still rown,
A fence and garden overgrown
With roses, unfazed by the lightless zone
 In this place that time forgot.
And I pondered, for a time, upon
What that meant for me, this prisoner-pawn;
Was it life or death that I stood upon
 as The Master of Shalott?

Though not corporeal to my sight
I know you’ve come, and come contrite
Do not despair, I feel no slight.
To my story let us now alight
 In this place that time forgot.
To days less darkened we restore
When he held me on the sunny shore
And the spells he cast weren’t brought to bore
 upon this Master of Shalott.