Eyes and Ears in Middle-earth
Open window looking out west
Flowers glowed red and golden
Took to the meadows, into the night
A rustle of wind in the grasses
High window over a sea of tangled trees
Stalky faded hemlocks wood-parsley and thistles
Flecked with thousands of faded willow-leaves
The mist flowing past in shreds and tatters
Reeds filled with warbling of little hidden birds
Turf burned to roots all scorched and shriveled
Cold voice calling and a cold voice answering
Mountains climbed, shoulder above peak, into the sky
Endless river of swelling gold and silver
Cool sun slanting through thin mist
Icy blasts, unable to keep out searching fingers
White humps and domes and shapeless deeps
Stumps and dead boughs rotting in shallows
Stairs arches passages tunnels intricate beyond imagination
Quivering tongue of rock thrust out into emptiness
Encircling mountains mirrored in a profound blue
Stream leaping down until lost in golden haze
Great mound double crowned snowy white and shapely
Golden flowers slender stalks white and palest green
Formless slopes brown and withered unfriendly waste
Noise of wind rushing water and echoing stone
Over the grey hills down into Shadow
A little glade not far from the lake
Dark spot against the golden light
The grass of Rohan swelled like a green sea
The smell is better than much sleep
Slim moon falling over the edge of a cliff
Dived headfirst into mists sprawling on the grass
If only we could get our hands free
Smoke rose high seen by many watchful eyes
Remarkable way the sores of captivity healed
Hoo now! That would be telling!
Stump of a tree bent gnarled old man
So old that almost I feel young again
Their coming like small stones starts an avalanche
Saruman best not be caught when dam bursts
It is not so dark here
In a fix and no mistake
Will good or evil show me hope?
Nothing between me and that shadow yonder
A sea-wall foundations shifted, twisted and disordered
Get busy and let an end down
Grey line dangling faint silver sheen
Good thing it held long as it did
Soft clinging hands prowling insect-kind
Would you commit your promise to Smeagol
You know It is before you
Mighty lord whining dog, akin and not alien
Moon is gone and night is going
Under hard clear stars they faded swiftly
(from the Silmarillion)
He made first the Ainur
Propounding to them themes of music
In understanding they grew but slowly
Iluvatar declared a mighty theme
Unfolding things greater and more wonderful
Glory its beginning and splendor its end
Amazed the Ainur so that they were silent
"Make in harmony a Great Music"
Sound arose endless interchanging melodies
Woven in harmony that passed beyond hearing
Never since have the Ainur made music like
Though greater still shall be the choirs of
The Ainur and the Children of Iluvatar
After the end of days
Then shall the themes be played aright
Found in the Sil, Lament For The Dark Elves
The Firstborn shall come in the darkness
And shall look first upon the stars.
The Kindler set signs in the heavens
And even as Menelmacar strode up the sky
In that hour the Children awoke, the Firstborn
By the mere of Cuivienen, they rose
From the sleep of Iluvatar.
Their eyes beheld first the stars of heaven
The first sound heard was of water flowing
Themselves they named the Quendi.
Melkor, ever watchful, was first aware;
The dark Rider pursued and devoured them.
Thus when Nahar neighed and Orome came
Some hid themselves, or fled and were lost.
Of those unhappy ones little is known.
The River-woman's Daughter
But see you,elf-friend
The joy that was hidden is made plain!
Crowned with autumn leaves,
Clad in living flowers;
Slender, clearer, fair,
Marvelous and yet not strange.
All things growing belong
Deeper and nearer to mortal heart.
The leaves' laughter
Falling gently away in the quiet of night...
Don't you know my name yet?