The Lady of Shalott 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 To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care heat she, The Lady of Shalott.
Pandora by John William Waterhouse. The deterioration of the physical paint adds a layer of complexity as the dark background contrasts with the gold of the chest and the porcelain skin of Pandora in the foreground.