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  1. #1
    Join Date
    May 2012
    In my TARDIS

    The Tolkien Poem Book

    One of the things I think is severely missing from publications of the Professor's works is a book just consisting of the poems he wrote. The poems are one of my favorite parts(although I used to skip them) and I love to see one now.

    So, to that effect, I would like to dedicate this thread to the Poetry of the Lord of the Rings.

    Please only post if you have a poem of J.R.R. Tolkien and make it very apparent(i.e. put it in a quote box)

    You can make other comments, but please always keep a poem in the post.

    Poems include riddles, lore verses, and songs. If it is a song, and you know the tune, please include it in some way.

    No one needs to copy the two epics (ley of lethian and tale of the children of hurin) but you can if you want to. Just please separate them by cantos.

    Quote Originally Posted by J.R.R. Tolkien
    Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go
    to heal my heart and drown my woe.
    The rain may fall and wind may blow,
    And many miles be still to go,
    But under a tall tree I will lie,
    And let the clouds go sailing by.
    Last edited by Mellonbeleg; Mar 21 2013 at 06:03 PM. Reason: Corrected wording of the poem
    Lore-Monkey(not a Lore Guardian) and proud of it.


  2. #2
    Join Date
    May 2012
    In my TARDIS

    Goblin Feet

    A little poem not found in the Lord of the Rings.

    Quote Originally Posted by J.R.R Tolkien
    I am off down the road
    Where the fairy laterns glowed
    And the little pretty flitter-mice are flying
    A slender band of gray
    It runs creepily away
    And the hedges and the grasses are a-sighing.
    The air is full of wings,
    And of blundery beetle-things
    That warn you with their whirring and their humming.
    O! I hear the tiny horns
    Of enchanted leprechauns
    And the padded feet of many gnomes a-coming!

    O! the lights! O! the gleams! O! the little twikly sounds!
    O! the rustle of their noisless little robes!
    O! the echo of their feet-of their happy little feet!
    O! the swinging lamps in the starlit globes.

    I must follow in their train
    Down the crooked fairy lane
    Where the coney-rabbits long ago have gone,
    And where silvery they sing
    In a moving moonlit ring
    All a twinkle with the jewels they have on.
    They are fading round the turn
    Where the glowworms palely burn
    And the echo of their padding feet is dying!
    O! it's knocking at my heart-
    Let me go! O! let me start!
    For the little magic hours are all a-flying.

    O! the warmth! O! the hum! O! the colors in the dark!
    O! the guazy wings of golden honey-flies!
    O! the music of their feet-of ther dancing goblin feet!
    O! the magic O! the sorrow when it dies.
    Lore-Monkey(not a Lore Guardian) and proud of it.


  3. #3
    Join Date
    Dec 2008
    I love Tolkien's poetry, I do not find him to be a very good poet, in fact a lot of his rhymes seem forced and unwieldy - However I do find him to be a very considered poet, very careful and deliberate and one that takes great pains to make his point and tell his poem from certain perspectives... For example: It is genius to willingly, purposely tell a bad poem from a goblins perspective because goblins don't know how to make lovely rhymes..

    IMO - that makes him a great poet.

    Mythopoeia has always been one of my
    favorite poems by Tolkien and has guided me on my struggles with art, craft and sub-creations... as well as a development to willingly suspend disbelief and cold hard facts...

    There is a very nice treatment of this body of work at the following link: http://www.polyoinos.de/tolk_stuff/mythopiea_engl..html

    Quote Originally Posted by J.R.R. Tolkien


    To one who said that myths were lies and therefore worthless, even
    though 'breathed through silver'.

    Philomythus to Misomythus

    You look at trees and label them just so,
    (for trees are 'trees', and growing is 'to grow');
    you walk the earth and tread with solemn pace
    one of the many minor globes of Space:
    a star's a star, some matter in a ball
    compelled to courses mathematical
    amid the regimented, cold, Inane,
    where destined atoms are each moment slain.

    At bidding of a Will, to which we bend
    (and must), but only dimly apprehend,
    great processes march on, as Time unrolls
    from dark beginnings to uncertain goals;
    and as on page o'erwritten without clue,
    with script and limning packed of various hue,
    an endless multitude of forms appear,
    some grim, some frail, some beautiful, some queer,
    each alien, except as kin from one
    remote Origo, gnat, man, stone, and sun.
    God made the petreous rocks, the arboreal trees,
    tellurian earth, and stellar stars, and these
    homuncular men, who walk upon the ground
    with nerves that tingle touched by light and sound.
    The movements of the sea, the wind in boughs,
    green grass, the large slow oddity of cows,
    thunder and lightning, birds that wheel and cry,
    slime crawling up from mud to live and die,
    these each are duly registered and print
    the brain's contortions with a separate dint.

    Yet trees are not 'trees', until so named and seen and
    never were so named, till those had been
    who speech's involuted breath unfurled,
    faint echo and dim picture of the world,
    but neither record nor a photograph,
    being divination, judgement, and a laugh,
    response of chose that felt astir within
    by deep monition movements that were kin
    to life and death of trees, of beasts, of stars:
    free captives undermining shadowy bars,
    digging the foreknown from experience
    and panning the vein of spirit out of sense.
    Great powers they slowly brought out of themselves,
    and looking backward they beheld the elves
    that wrought on cunning forges in the mind,
    and light and dark on secret looms entwined.

    He sees no stars who does not see them first
    of living silver made that sudden burst
    to flame like flowers beneath an ancient song,
    whose very echo after-music long
    has since pursued. There is no firmament,
    only a void, unless a jewelled tent
    myth-woven and elf-patterned; and no earth,
    unless the mother's womb whence all have birth.

    The heart of man is not compound of lies,
    but draws some wisdom from the only Wise,
    and still recalls him. Though now long estranged,
    man is not wholly lost nor wholly changed.
    Dis-graced he may be, yet is not dethroned,
    and keeps the rags of lordship one he owned,
    his world-dominion by creative act:
    not his to worship the great Artefact.
    man, sub-creator, the refracted light
    through whom is splintered from a single White
    to many hues, and endlessly combined
    in living shapes that move from mind to mind.
    Though all the crannies of the world we filled
    with elves and goblins, though we dared to build
    gods and their houses out of dark and light,
    and sow the seed of dragons, 'twas our right
    (used or misused). The right has not decayed.
    We make still by the law in which were made.

    Yes! 'wish-fulfilment dreams' we spin to cheat
    our timid hearts and ugly Fact defeat!
    Whence came the wish, and whence the power to dream,
    or some things fair and others ugly deem?
    All wishes are not idle, nor in vain
    fulfilment we devise - for pain is pain,
    not for itself to be desired, but ill;
    or else to strive or to subdue the will
    alike were graceless; and of Evil this
    alone is dreadly certain: Evil is.

    Blessed are the timid hearts that evil hate,
    that quail in its shadow, and yet shut the gate;
    that seek no parley, and in guarded room,
    though small and bare, upon a clumsy loom
    weave tissues gilded by the far-off day
    hoped and believed in under Shadow's sway.

    Blessed are the men of Noah's race that build
    their little arks, though frail and poorly filled,
    and steer through winds contrary towards a wraith,
    a rumour of a harbour guessed by faith.

    Blessed are the legend-makers with their rhyme
    of things not found within recorded time.
    It is not they that have forgot the Night,
    or bid us flee to organized delight,
    in lotus-isles of economic bliss
    forswearing souls to gain a Circe-kiss
    (and counterfeit at that, machine-produced,
    bogus seduction of the twice-seduced).

    Such isles they saw afar, and ones more fair,
    and those that hear them yet may yet beware.
    They have seen Death and ultimate defeat,
    and yet they would not in despair retreat,
    but oft to victory have turned the lyre
    and kindled hearts with legendary fire,
    illuminating Now and dark Hath-been
    with light of suns as yet by no man seen.

    I would that I might with the minstrels sing
    and stir the unseen with a throbbing string.
    I would be with the mariners of the deep
    that cut their slender planks on mountains steep
    and voyage upon a vague and wandering quest,
    for some have passed beyond the fabled West.
    I would with the beleaguered fools be told,
    that keep an inner fastness where their gold,
    impure and scanty, yet they loyally bring
    to mint in image blurred of distant king,
    or in fantastic banners weave the sheen
    heraldic emblems of a lord unseen.

    I will not walk with your progressive apes,
    erect and sapient. Before them gapes
    the dark abyss to which their progress tends
    if by God's mercy progress ever ends,
    and does not ceaselessly revolve the same
    unfruitful course with changing of a name.
    I will not treat your dusty path and flat,
    denoting this and that by this and chat,
    your world immutable wherein no part
    the little maker has with maker's art.
    I bow not yet before the Iron Crown,
    nor cast my own small golden sceptre down.

    In Paradise perchance the eye may stray
    from gazing upon everlasting Day
    to see the day-illumined, and renew
    from mirrored truth the likeness of the True
    Then looking on the Blessed Land 'twill see
    that all is as it is, and yet made free:
    Salvation changes not, nor yet destroys,
    garden nor gardener, children nor their toys.
    Evil it will not see, for evil lies
    not in God's picture but in crooked eyes,
    not in the source but in malicious choice,
    and not in sound but in the tuneless voice.
    In Paradise they look no more awry;
    and though they make anew, they make no lie.
    Be sure they still will make, not being dead,
    and poets shall have flames upon their head,
    and harps whereon their faultless fingers fall:
    there each shall choose for ever from the All.
    Take Care,
    [URL="http://forums.lotro.com/showthread.php?496094-The-Brief-Mr.-Bako-Bongo-In-Soup-Du-Jour."]My LOTRO Comics and Fan-Fiction[/URL]

  4. #4
    Join Date
    May 2012
    In my TARDIS

    The Fall of Gil-Galad

    He's no Robert Frost, but is beautiful in a different way, with every poem being different, from a formal epic, to a impromptu ditty for cleaning up dishes.

    Thank you for that last poem Dwaren, it really is one of his most important works because it explains why Fantasy is often more real than reality.

    Quote Originally Posted by J.R.R. Tolkien
    Gil-Galad was an Elven-King.
    Of him the harpers sadly sing:
    the last whose realm was fair and free
    between the mountains and the Sea.

    His sword was long, his lance was keen,
    his shining helm afar was seen;
    the countless stars of heaven's field
    were mirrored in his silver shield.

    But long ago he rode away,
    and where he dwelleth none can say;
    for into darkness fell his star
    in Mordor where the shadows are
    Lore-Monkey(not a Lore Guardian) and proud of it.


  5. #5
    So many amazing poems, how does one choose? And I disagree that he was not a good poet, but my argument is strictly an aesthetical one. His taste is everything I love about English and words. Anyways...

    Quote Originally Posted by Tolkien
    I sit beside the fire and think
    of all that I have seen,
    of meadow-flowers and butterflies
    in summers that have been;

    Of yellow leaves and gossamer
    in autumns that there were,
    with morning mist and silver sun
    and wind upon my hair.

    I sit beside the fire and think
    of how the world will be
    when winter comes without a spring
    that I shall ever see.

    For still there are so many things
    that I have never seen:
    in every wood and every spring
    there is adifferent green.

    I sit beside the fire and think
    of people long ago,
    and people who will see a world
    that I shall never know.

    But all the while I sit and think
    of times there were before,
    I listen for returning feet
    and voices at the door.
    Landroval: Dedoric of Rohan | Walaran of the Vales | Rocso the party hobbit | all the alts
    /joinchannel Bee-hunters -- Landy's unofficial Beorning kin!

  6. #6
    Join Date
    May 2012
    In my TARDIS

    Galadriel's Song

    Thanks Shipwreck, I love that one

    Quote Originally Posted by J.R.R. Tolkien
    I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
    Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.
    Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moo, the foam was on the Sea,
    And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
    Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
    In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.
    There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,
    While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
    O Lorien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;
    The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.
    O Lorien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
    And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
    But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
    What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?
    Lore-Monkey(not a Lore Guardian) and proud of it.


  7. #7
    Join Date
    May 2012
    In my TARDIS

    The Walking Song part 1

    Parts 2-4 are coming soon.

    Quote Originally Posted by J.R.R. Tolkien
    The Road goes ever on and on
    Down from the door where it began.
    Now far ahead the Road has gone,
    And I must follow, if I can,
    Pursuing it with eager feet,
    Until it joins some larger way
    Where many paths and errands meet.
    And whither then? I cannot say.
    Lore-Monkey(not a Lore Guardian) and proud of it.


  8. #8
    i do agree tolkien's poetry is amazing. i think this one will always be my favorite (of the short ones)

    Quote Originally Posted by J.R.R. Tolkien
    All that is gold does not glitter,
    Not all those who wander are lost;
    The old that is strong does not wither,
    Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

    From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
    A light from the shadows shall spring;
    Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
    The crownless again shall be king
    I have a book called "The Road Goes Ever On". its a collection of tolkien poems with music written for them also. in the front of the book there is a text advertisement..quoted below

    "The songs from The Road Goes Ever On are sung by William Elvin, the composer at the piano, in a record album entitled Poems and Songs of Middle-Earth (with Professor Tolkien reading the poems). Produced by Caedmon #TC1231 and available at your record or book store."

    obviously old. they were made in the mid 70's. i have TC1477 which is tolkien reading some of the hobbit and LOTR. not exactly what youre after, but maybe something cool to look for =)

    if i could read music i would try to play these songs in LOTRO =P

    ok i just looked on ebay...there are quite a few of the album "poems and songs of middle earth" and perhaps a few copies of the book as well.
    Last edited by husaragi; Mar 29 2013 at 08:57 AM. Reason: more info

  9. #9
    Join Date
    Dec 2010
    Quote Originally Posted by J.R.R Tolkien
    The dragon is withered,
    His bones are now crumbled;
    His armour is shivered,
    His splendour is humbled!
    Though sword shall be rusted,
    And throne and crown perish
    With strength that men trusted
    And wealth that they cherish,
    Here grass is still growing,
    And leaves are yet swinging,
    The white water flowing,
    And elves are yet singing
    Come! Tra-la-la-lally!
    Come back to the valley!

    The stars are far brighter
    Than gems without measure,
    The moon is far whiter
    Than silver in treasure:
    The fire is more shining
    On hearth in the gloaming
    Than gold won by mining,
    So why go a-roaming?
    O! Tra-la-la-lally
    Come back to the Valley.

    O! Where are you going,
    So late in returning?
    The river is flowing,
    The stars are all burning!
    O! Whither so laden,
    So sad and so dreary?
    Here elf and elf-maiden
    Now welcome the weary
    With Tra-la-la-lally
    Come back to the Valley,
    This is from The Hobbit.

  10. #10
    Join Date
    Apr 2012

    Wink Keep it goin'!

    I keep a poem from the book on my computer: Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
    Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
    Nine for the Mortal Men doomed to die,
    One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
    In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
    One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
    One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
    In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

    - J.R.R. Tolkien

    I took it from the book, "The Fellowship of the Ring".
    Keep 'em poems comin'!

  11. #11
    Join Date
    May 2012
    In my TARDIS

    Legolas's Song

    This is from the Return of the King, sung by Legolas
    Quote Originally Posted by J.R.R. Tolkien
    To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
    The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
    West, west away, the round sun is falling.
    Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
    The voices of my people that have gone before me?
    I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
    For our days are ending and our years failing.
    I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
    Long are teh waves on the Last Shore falling,
    Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
    In Eressea, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
    Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!
    Lore-Monkey(not a Lore Guardian) and proud of it.


  12. #12
    Join Date
    May 2012
    In my TARDIS
    Need I tell you where this is from?
    Quote Originally Posted by j.r.r. Tolkien
    Tom:Hey! Come derry dol! Hop along, my hearties!
    Hobbits! Ponies all! We are fond of parties.
    Now let the fun begin! Let us sing together!
    Goldberry:Now let the song begin! Let us sing together
    Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
    Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather,
    Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,
    Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water:
    Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!
    Lore-Monkey(not a Lore Guardian) and proud of it.




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