The Starlit Tomb

A poem for King Théoden

On a sea of frost-white grass
On a starlit tomb
On the graves of warriors
Sent to death too soon
By the mad, red dog of war
Orion hunts the moon.

Swiftly let the horses bear me
Further from your side.
No more let bright memory tear me
Onward let us ride.
The horns have called the Mark to battle
All my tears have dried.

On a snow-white battle-charger
An army I’ll deceive
Fool a king and fool a wizard
Have them both believe
That made anew I ride to battle
When all I do is grieve.

Here forever is my heartland
Buried at your side
Withered are the funeral garlands
No more dirges cried.
No second death in foreign slaughter
This is where I died.
- Varda