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She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro’ the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look’d down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack’d from side to side.
“The curse is come upon me,” cried
The Lady of Shalott.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

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