A leafy glade no man has seen,
Was set aside for the elven queen,
In slices of gold the sun streamed down,
And gave each child a gleaming crown,
The wind was felt not by the trees,
It was not still yet not a breeze,
A carpet of leaves we saw unfold,
Of autumn colours, red and gold,
Three days it took to be prepared,
All forest creatures stood and stared,
Three days, and then midsummer’s eve,
She appeared in a dress of perfect weave,
A shimmering thing, twas silver green,
Soon cries were heard, “behold the queen!”,
Her face was drowned in beams of light,
Said she, “this is a blessed night”,
She glided up the path of gold,
Not looking young, not looking old,
Her face was known in all the land,
Her perfect hair, her flawless hand,
She reached the trees, we bowed our heads,
I will remember till I’m dead,
Oh how she looked, oh how we stared!
For none of us were quite prepared,
But alas we could not stare for long,
Too soon we heard an elvish song,
Started by a paige boy keen,
To hear sweet praises from the queen,
And soon the dancing did begin,
The music rising from within,
For four long hours were we merry,
Much refreshed by drinks of berries,
Till one by one we stood no more,
And sank to leaf beds on the floor,
Only the queen, with her flushed face,
Continued with the dancing race,
As if possessed she had to move,
No oils or drinks or words could soothe,
And so, at morn midsummers day,
Our holy Queen, she danced away,
Still no-one knows were she has gone,
Or if she still hears that sweet song,
But now each year, midsummer’s eve,
We remember the dress of perfect weave,
And woodland elves wear silver-green,
In memory of their lovely queen.
But now dear Frodo, I say no more,
For you look close to sweet sleep’s door,
But let your dreams soar far away,
To places were the elves do play,
Where rivers wind and breezes flow,
Goodnight, with love,
Your uncle, Bilbo
