|Sonnet for the Trees
Sonnet for Bill the Pony
Hidden Venture (Bilbo)
Bilbo and Thorin
For Boromir and the Ring
Sonnet for Denethor
Sonnet for Elrond Halfelven
A Sonnet for Treebeard
A Sonnet for Eomer
A Sonnet for Faramir
Light Within These Hands (Frodo)
I Am Seen (Frodo)
(based on Shakespeare's Sonnet XVIII)
Or, "O Pony-Bill, O Pony-Bill,
Wherefore art thou, O Pony-Bill?"
Shall I compare thee to a sleek, tall Bay?
Thou art more shaggy and more intemperate:
Rough winds do make your tangled tail to sway,
And the travelers' pile on you too great a weight.
Sometimes your sight within your eyes does fine,
But often is your equine forelock untrimm'd;
In every path and river you sometimes decline,
By chance, or stubborn change in course, unswimm'd;
But thy direction homeward shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that stable thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in between the stable walls thou growest;
So long as you can breathe and eat your feed,
So long you will live, if they provide what you need.
But wherefore did you manage in mighty way
To war upon that bloody tyrant, Time?
You fortified yourself from all decay
With means more blessed than all Elven rhyme.
Now stand you on the end of happy hours;
Past countless fading gardens, yet unset,
Your virtue and peace bloom like living flowers,
Much truer than all painted counterfeits;
So did the lines of fate your Ring repair'd,
In this, Time's eddy, hidden peaceful vale,
Both filled with inward worth, and outward fair.
You gave away yourself, kept yourself stilled;
And now must sail, drawn by your own ring'd skill.
Based on Shakespeare’s sonnet II
When a thousand winters have besieged thy bark
And dug deep trenches by thy rooted feet,
Your forest’s green branches, so gaz’d on now,
Will be a tatter’d wood, of small worth held;
Then being ask’d where all their beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of their lusty days,
They will see, within thine own deep sunken eyes,
There dwells long memory and timeless faith.
How more praise deserv’d in thy forest’s keeping
If thou couldst answer – “This fair wood of mine
Shall sum my count, and make known my years –“
Proving trees beauty by overgrowing thine!
They will yet be new-grown when thou are old,
To see their sap warm when thou feel’st it cold.
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