I´m half sick of shadows

"On either side of the river lieLong fields of barley and of rye,That clothe the wold and meet the sky;And through the field the road runs by(...)There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay.She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay (...)
But in her web she still delightsTo weave the mirror's magic sights,For often through the silent nightsA funeral, with plumes and lights And music, went to Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed; "I am half sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shalott.
She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She looked down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror cracked from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott.
Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right-- The leaves upon her falling light-- Through the noises of the nightAnd as the boat-head wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.

Lord Tennyson