A Song of Ithilien
The vale shines neath the crescent moon
that kindles the waters to flame,
A white tower stands midst the tree clad hills,
and Dol Elenna is it’s name.
A garden grows wild about the walls,
fragrant Rowan and Willow and Pine,
Whilst eglantine, stonecrop and Athelas
each stone of the white walls entwine.
Thyme, wild roses and Iris
with fragrance fill the air,
And about the window of sunset
grow lilies silver fair.
The vale of the rising moon, this is,
Ithilien the fair,
And two lovers stand on the starlit walls,
with the wind in their mingled hair.
The maid is a golden warrior,
her eyes as a river grey,
And the prince is courageous and noble
with eyes blue as the wing of a jay.
From far aloft their standard
floats in a wind from the sea,
It’s tokens the moon and the silver flower,
displayed proud and faithful and free.
The Prince looks out far o’er his realm,
shinning gold in the early dawn,
And his arm encircles the slender white maid,
as together they greet the new morn.