J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
In western lands
Beneath the sun
The flowers may rise in Spring
The trees may bud
The waters run
The merry finches sing
Or there may be tis cloudless night
And swaying beeches bear
The Elven stars as jewels white
Amid their branching hair
Though here at journey's end I lie
In darkness buried deep
Beyond all towers strong and high
Beyond all mountains steep
Above all shadows rides the Sun
And Stars for ever dwell
I will not say the Day is done
Nor bid the Stars farewell
I will not say the Day is done
Nor bid the Stars farewell
I will not say the Day is done
Nor bid the Stars farewell