The flame of Arnor, a ruby ring,
Beneath a cloak of grey.
A thorny staff in a pilgrim's hand
To help him on his way.
He wields the blade of an elven King,
To vanquish darkest night.
An ancient, smiling, weathered face,
The champion of light.
Kindly, twinkling, sky-blue eyes
Neath bushy brows like snow.
A power of wrath and righteousness
Within the fire's glow.
O wise Mithrandir, Pilgrim grey,
Who bears the world's great load,
Grey cloaked, grey hooded, wandering
Upon the darkest road.