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  1. #1
    Join Date
    Mar 2012
    The Lowlands

    J.R.R. Tolkien's Poetry

    Do you have any of Tolkiens poems memorised? If so post them here

    I'll start
    Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
    Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
    Nine for 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.
    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.
    The world world was young, the mountains green,
    No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
    No words were laid on stream or stone,
    When Durin woke and walked alone.
    He named the nameless hills and dells;
    He drank from yet untasted wells;
    He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
    And saw a crown of stars appear,
    As gems upon a silver thread,
    Above the shadow of his head.

    The world was fair, the mountains tall,
    In Elder Days before the fall
    Of mighty Kings in Nargothrond
    And Gondolin, who now beyond
    The Western Seas have passed away:
    The world was fair in Durin's Day.

    A king he was on carven throne
    In many-pillared halls of stone
    With golden roof and silver floor,
    And runes of power upon the door.
    The light of sun and star and moon
    In shining lamps of crystal hewn
    Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
    There shown forever far and bright.

    There hammer on the anvil smote,
    There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
    There forged was bladed and bound was hilt;
    The delver mined the mason built.
    There beryl, pearl, and opal pale
    And metel wrought like fishes' mail,
    Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
    And shining spears were laid in horde.

    Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
    Beneath the mountains music woke:
    The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
    And at the gates the trumpets rang.

    The world is grey, the mountains old,
    The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
    No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
    The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
    The shadow lies upon his tomb
    In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
    But still the sunken stars appear
    In dark and windless Mirrormere;
    There lies his crown in water deep,
    Till Durin wakes again from sleep.
    Chrisandir, man Captain 100 | Raxus dwarf Guardian 51 | Chrorin dwarf Hunter 30 | Strillo hobbit Burglar 3 | Butche man Champion 29 |
    | Falaminianteraglith dwarf Runekeeper 20 | Randu man Lore-master 17 | Nafthali woman Warden 12 |

  2. #2

    Here's my favourite, seemingly not related to middle-earth at all, though ...

    ... IIRC, in The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, the author attributed it to Sam Gamgee; without further ado,

    The fat cat on the mat
    may seem to dream
    of nice mice that suffice
    for him, or cream;
    but he free, maybe,
    walks in thought
    unbowed, proud, where loud
    roared and fought
    his kin, lean and slim,
    or deep in den
    in the East feasted on beasts
    and tender men.

    The giant lion with iron
    claw in paw,
    and huge ruthless tooth
    in gory jaw;
    the pard, dark-starred,
    fleet upon feet,
    that oft soft from aloft
    leaps upon his meat
    where woods loom in gloom--
    far now they be,
    fierce and free,
    and tamed is he;
    but fat cat on the mat
    kept as a pet,
    he does not forget.

    --J.R.R. Tolkien


  3. #3
    Join Date
    Jun 2012
    Over there
    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.
    He chanted a song of wizardry,
    Of piercing, opening, of treachery,
    Revealing, uncovering, betraying.
    Then sudden Felagund there swaying
    Sang in answer a song of staying,
    Resisting, battling against power,
    Of secrets kept, strength like a tower,
    And trust unbroken, freedom, escape;
    Of changing and of shifting shape,
    Of snares eluded, broken traps,
    The prison opening, the chain that snaps.
    Backwards and forwards swayed their song.
    Reeling and foundering, as ever more strong
    The chanting swelled, Felagund fought,
    And all the magic and might he brought
    Of Elvenesse into his words.
    Softly in the gloom they heard the birds
    Singing afar in Nargothrond,
    The sighing of the Sea beyond,
    Beyond the western world, on sand,
    On sand of pearls in Elvenland.
    Then the gloom gathered; darkness growing
    In Valinor, the red blood flowing
    Beside the Sea, where the Noldor slew
    The Foamriders, and stealing drew
    Their whiter ships with their white sails
    From lamplit havens. The wind wails,
    The wolf howls. The ravens flee.
    The ice mutters in the mouths of the Sea.
    The captives sad in Angband mourn.
    Thunder rumbles, the fires burn-
    And Finrod fell before the throne.
    [b][color=darkred][i]You cannot pass, I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.[/i][/color][/b]



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