Wanderings

From southern hills to northern wastes
with whistling haste I passed away.
Where whelmed in waves was Numenor
in times before I did not stay.
Where darkened might yet held the land
of roaring sands I flying left;
in ancient Gondor strong and fair
neath mortal care I did not rest.
O'er grass of Rohan long and green
where far were seen the riders bold;
in steel-clenched Ring of Isengard
and mountains far I did not hold.
Of spellbound woods of Lorien
that seldom men have e'er beheld,
and mountain stronghold Erebor
where toil the dwarves I cannot tell.
And over Mirkwood dark with fear
where hidden speartips spring in death,
and Misty Mountains high and cold
and caverns old I blew my breath.
And finally to Rivendell
where Eldar dwell in welcome mirth
I stayed my wings and songs at last,
and silent passed from verdant earth.

Imladris Poetry Page