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I'm not sure if this is the whole thing, but it's what I have, if that makes any sense at all. It's in the beggining of the book called A Great and Terrible Beauty, by Libba Bray. I reccomend it if you like magic, some gore, and supernatural things. If you want to read it, you can borrow it from me. Hope you like it! p.s. Read my other journal entries! please...

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She heard a whisper say,
A curse on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott

And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees a highway near
Winding down to Camelott...

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelott;
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
"I'm half sick of the shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance-
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.