A brace of coney, a bit of broth,
The sweet herbs growing all around.
If we only had taters, oh what a feast!
What a garden this must have been.

A soft bed of fern, gently rustling trees,
Pungent bay and winter fruit,
Flowers wild in abandoned grace,
So near to darkness, green life holds sway.

Once more, Ithilien
Beside the shadows you blossom,
Once more, Ithilien
Your life struggles through.

Fountains and waterfalls trickling still,
Clear water to wash in, and to drink.
Rest and food and light and scent -
Weary eyes can finally close.

Under your boughs they peacefully sleep.
They have come to you, and will come again.
These travelers small with a burden great,
By their deeds Ages will begin and end.

Once more, Ithilien
A gardener's hands are among you.
Once more, Ithilien,
You will awaken and bloom.

- Primula