For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid.
Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new.
The mirror crack'd from side to side "The curse has come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott
Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to towered Camelot.
Ah! well away! Seasons flower and fade.
Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.