East of the Misty Mountains,
Land of blossoms, dreaming sighs.
Silver-barked Mallorn trees,
Valley of singing gold.
Home of the 'tree-people',
Elven-lords of old.
Sparkling waters flow.
Chrystal fountains, shimmering.
Mulitudes of flowers bloom,
Lake Lorellin, glimmering.
Tall trees and gentle mists,
Fairest of Elven Queens,
Galadriel, bestows gifts.
Woven cloaks of softest grey,
Fastened with silver leaves,
Concealing them from spying eyes.
For the Ranger, stone of green,
Elessar, reunited house of kings.
Oh Boromir, the brave,
Waistband of golden weave.
Cheerful, young hobbits,
Belts of silver chain.
For Legolas, elf-archer,
Strong carved bow, arrows swift.
"Oh Dwarf, would you ask of elves."
A single strand of your golden hair,
No treasure dearer, could be delved,
Near to my heart, will aways wear.
To gentle gardner, Samwise,
Seeds of beauty for his Shire home.
May the brightness of Earendil's star,
Shine for you, Ring-bearer,
When all other lights are gone.
Down the River Anduin, they row,
Onward, the journey far,
To what end, they do not know,
Farewell, golden valley.