(Based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "Excelsior!")
The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an hobbit village passed
A mage, who bore, 'mid this and that,
Upon his head the strangest hat,
Mithrandir!
His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a firework on the beach,
And like a silver clarion rung
The wisdom of his witty tongue,
Mithrandir!
From Elven home he led their flight
But winged spies had them in sight;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from their lips escaped a groan.
Mithrandir!
Beware the awful avalanche!
Beware the Watcher in the pool!
Then into Moria's long, dark night,
He led the way, through depth and height,
Mithrandir!
"You Shall Not Pass!" the old man said.
Fire bellowed behind them as they fled,
The roaring chasm was deep and wide!
And o'er that roaring voice they cried:
Mithrandir!
"Oh stay," the Lady said, "and rest
Your weary heads, you are our guests!"
But tears stood in their bright blue eyes,
And still they answered, with a sigh,
Mithrandir!
At break of day, as Forestward
The weary few of Fellowship
Gave one old man a startled stare,
They cried as an arrow sparked in air,
Mithrandir!
White Rider, always faithful, found
Halflings safe and King a-crowned,
Still grasping in his hand his staff.
Now say his name with heartfelt laugh:
Mithrandir!
Then in the twilight soft and gray,
As slipped the ship out from the Bay,
As from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star,
Mithrandir!
