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 in every spring
there is a different 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.

The cold hard lands
they bites our hands,
they gnaws our feet.
The rocks and stones
are like old bones,
all bare of meat.
But stream and pool
is wet and cool:
so nice for feet!
And now we wish
to catch a fish,
so juicy-sweet!

My favourite poem in LoTR is the one about Gil Galad sang by I think Sam.(sorry I can't give an example of it as I don't have my book with me)

I know it wasnt in Lotr, but my favirote Tolkien poem was from the "Tolkien Reader", the poem "Princess Mee". I just love that poem.

My favorites, in no particular order:

Aragorn's Beren and Luthien poem (LotR I)
Winter Comes to Nargothrond (HoMe III)
Kor: In a City Lost and Dead (HoMe I)
Namarie (LotR II)

Favourites:
I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold and leaves of gold they grew
Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew
Beyond the sun, beyond the moon, a foam was on the sea
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden tree
[...]
Oh Lorien! The winter comes the bare and leafless day
The leaves asre falling in the stream, the river flows away
Oh Lorien! Too long I have dwelt apon this hither shore
and in the fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
But if of ships I now should sing what ship would come to me? What ship would pass me ever wide across so wide a sea?
Gee, I love that one...
and then there´s Gimli´s Song of Durin,
the long list of the Ents
and the ballade of the four winds.
But I love almost all of Tolkiens poems, simly cause they´re just poems and give a bit of "break" between the normal writing.

The tale of tinuviel
The song about Nimrodel
The fall of gil-galad
The poem about the magic rings
were my faves and i manage to memorize the last 2

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 it if I can pursueing it with egar feet until it jons some larger way wher many paths and errands meet and wither then i cannot say

That Poem must be the best

Frodo's version of The Road Goes Ever On is nice (struggling for adjectives).
Still round the corner there may wait
a new road or a secret gate
and though I oft have passed them by
the day will come at last when I
shall take the hidden paths that run
west of the moon and east of the sun.

A new road or a secret gate, that's something I'm always looking out for. I think about that line quite a bit.

But my favourite is definitely The Flammifer of Westernesse. I can't decided whether I like that version or the one called Errantry better. They're both great pieces of work.

Doug, that's part of the longer Walking Song that they sing in the beginning of the journey. The original is in Three Is Company. Frodo modifies the second verse.

I think it's absolutely haunting. West of the moon, east of the Sun...

My favourite poem is the one which begins " the Road goes ever on and on", the lyrics are really good and it goes with the story so well. I also like the poems that are in The Hobbit, that are sung by the Dwarves. Excellent. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

Problably the Tale of Tinuviel, though I'm not really into Tolkien's poetry.

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 who 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 the waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices on the lost isle calling,
In Eressea, in Elvenhome, which no man can discover,
Where the leaves fall not: land of my people forever!
***
I cried after this, and I'm sure someone already mentioned it, but it will always be *my poem*.

Hahahaha. Right. You have good taste, HerenIstarion. Songs of the waves forever, eh? ;-)

The fall of Gil-Galad, this may be because this is the only one that i know by heart.
I even managed to (badly) translate it into Irish
"Bhí Gil-Galad rí na Siog
As cé na ceoltoirí canadh go bronach......"
I won't give you the rest as it is so bad.

[ February 14, 2003: Message edited by: Dimaldaeon ]

Over the land there lies a long shadow
Westwards reaching wings of darkness
The tower trembles to the tombs of kings
doom approaches. the dead awaken
for the hour has come for the oathbreakers
at the stone of erech they shall stand again
and hear there a horn in the hills ringing
whose shall the horn be? who shall call them
from the grey twilight, the forgotten people?
the heir of him to whom the oath they swore
from north shall he come need shall drive him
he shall pass the doors to the paths of the dead.

LOVE it!!! i hope i got it right, wrote it without looking in the text...know it by heart [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

I'm obsesd with the barrowwights poem...i know, I'm weird... [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

Cold be hand and heart and bone
And Cold be sleep under stone
Never more to wake on stony bed
Never, till the sun fails and the moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die-
Still on gold here let them lie
Till the Dark Lord lifts his hand
Over dead sea and withered land.

Kinda depressing, isn't it?..And yes, I know it by heart.

These are my other favorites that I know by heart, but I'm too lazy to write them out now.

Fall of Gil-Galad
Where now are the Dunedain, Elessar, Elessar?
Whatsit... the one Bilbo sings for Frodo before he leaves Rivendell.
The world was young, the mountains green.

There's a few more, but I went to bed really late last night rereading RotK and trying to get through Lost Tales I...*yawn*. I'll probably think of like 8 more tomorrow.

Hah! I feel smart...I found the thread and didn't create a duplicate. Ahem, anyways...

Recently I've been reading all the poetry especially in LOTR with more vigure. Treebeard's elvish poem concerning the entwives...
...For some reason this poem is deep to me and even when reading it in my head I can hear the ents singing it, calling to each other over vast distances. The ents under trees and entwives in their fields. The music behind it was so clear to me that I put it to written music and sing it now and again to myself. It is just beautiful to me. The sadness of the story, even though fiction, and only a small piece of the ents history, it touches my heart and grabs at my pity. I hope to complete my musical recreation of this poem with my own instrumentation and voices. I can hear the harmony's in my mind as I write this. I want to record it and post it somewhere where you all can here it. If anyone has a sujestion for this, about where I might put my song without compromising copywrite laws, please share.

"Hah! I feel smart...I found the thread and didn't create a duplicate. Ahem, anyways..."

Good for you A. not too easy considering the thread title... maybe I should link it to the other favorites threads [Letters, minor works, etc]/

Anyway...

Also in no particular order:

*Around the corner there may wait...[the one cited several times above] the source for my PT actually, or one of them.

*Kortirion among the Trees in BoLT, a late [AoTB] era revision of a very early poems which seems to describe JRRT actually feeling/sensing Elves in the forests and byways of warwickshire. hmm...

* A Elbereth Gilthoniel [the only one I ever memorized].

*Namarie

I have yet to really dive deep into HoM-E3 so I can't comment there yet.

It has to be the Fall of Gil-Galad and the fact that Sam of all people was singing it at the time was a treat in my mind.

I love the poem entitled "Elven Hymn" (says so in my book "Poems from The Lord of the Rings")

Ah, beauty.

Lindril (stupid talented Elves) Arvilya

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away ere break of day
far over wood and mountain tall.

To rivendell where elves yet dwell
in glades beneath the misty fell,
Through moor and waste we ride in haste
and wither then we cannot tell
With foes ahead, behind us dread,
beneath the sky shall be our bed
until at last our toli be passed
our journey done our errand sped.

We must away, We must away!
We ride before the break of day!null

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mightly spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold: where no man delves
There lay long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the height
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire was red, the flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale
And men looked up with faces pale;
The dragon's ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the misty mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!


--The dwarves in "The Hobbit".

I love that song/poem because it represents prosperity (the dwarves made their hall and mined their gold(, tragedy (the dwarves lost their mine to the dragon), and courage (the dwarved wish to go forth and claim the hall back).

(And for those who are familiar with the song, "I Could Sing of Your Love Forever", the tune of that praise song matches the dwarves' song almost perfectly.)

Where do I find this list?

I'm not sure if this counts as a peom, it's really more prose, but the Lay of Beleriand is most excellent.

and im surprised nibody has posted this yet:
All that is Gold does not glitter
Notall those who wander are lost
the old that is strong does not whither
deep rootsare not reached by the frost
from the ashes a fire shall be woken
a light from the shadows shall spring
Reforged shall be sword that was broken
the crownless once more shall be king.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 2:00 AM December 10, 2003: Message edited by: Secret Fire ]

Earendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in’
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow was fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid.

In panoply of ancient kings,
in chained rings he armoured him
his shining shield was scored with runes
to ward all wounds and harm from him;
his bow was made of dragon-horn,
his arrows shorn of ebony,
silver was his habergeon,
his scabbard of chalcedony;
his sword of steel was valiant,
of adamant his helmet tall,
an eagle plume upon his crest,
upon his breast an emerald.

Beneath the wind and under star
he wandered far from northern strands,
bewildered on enchanted ways
beyond the days of mortal lands.
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice
where shadow lies on frozen hills,
from nether heats and burning waste
he turned in haste, and roving still
on starless water far astray
at last he came to Night of Naught,
and passed, and never sight he saw
of shining shore nor light he sought.
The winds of wrath came driving him,
and blindly in the foam he fled
from west to east and errandless,
unheralded he homeward sped.

There flying Elwing came to him,
and flame was in the darkness lit;
more bright than light of diamond
the fire upon her carcanet.
The Silmaril she bound on him
and crowned him with the living light
and dauntless then with burning brow
he turned his brow; and in the night
from Otherworld beyond the sea
there strong and free a storm arose,
a wind of power in Tarmenel;
by paths that seldom mortal goes
his boat it bore with biting breath
as might of death across the grey
and long-forsaken seas distressed:
from east to west he passed away.

Through Evernight he back was borne
on black and roaring waves that ran
o’er leagues unlit and foundered shores
that drowned before the Days began,
until he heard on strands of pearl
where ends the world the music long,
where ever-foaming billows roll
the yellow gold and jewels wan.

He saw the Mountain silent rise
where twilight lies upon the knees
of Valinor, and Eldamar
beheld afar beyond the seas.
A wanderer escaped from night
to haven white he came at last,
to Elvenhome the green and fair
where keen the air, where pale as glass
beneath the Hill of Ilmarin
a-glimmer in a valley sheer
the lamplit towers of Tirion
are mirrored on the Shadowmere.

He tarried there from errantry,
and melodies they taught to him,
and sages old him marvels told,
and harps of gold they brought to him.
They clothed him then in elven-white,
and seven lights before him sent,
as through the Calacirian
to hidden land forlorn he went.
He came unto the timeless halls
where shining fall the countless years,
and endless reigns the Elder King
in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;
and words unheard were spoken then
of folk of Men and Elven-kin,
beyond the world were visions showed
forbid to those that dwell therein.

A ship then new they built for him
of mithril and of elven-glass
with shining prow; no shaven oar
nor sail she bore on silver mast:
the Silmaril as lantern light
and banner bright with living flame
to gleam thereon by Elbereth
herself was set, who thither came
and wings immortal made for him,
and laid on him undying doom,
to sail the shoreless skies and come
behind the Sun and light of Moon.

From Evereven’s lofty hills
where softly silver fountains fall
his wings him bore, a wandering light,
beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.
From World’s End then he turned away,
and yearned again to find afar
his home through shadows journeying,
and burning as an island star
on high above the mists he came,
a distant flame before the Sun,
a wonder ere the waking dawn
where grey the Northland waters run.

And over Middle-earth he passed
and heard at last the weeping sore
of women and of elven-maids
in Elder Days, in years of yore.
But on him mighty doom was laid,
till Moon should fade, an orbed star
to pass and tarry never more
on Hither Shores where mortals are;
for ever still a herald on
an errand that should never rest
to bear his shining lamp afar,
the Flammifer of Westernesse.

Well, that took a long time, I juve the meter and rhyming scheem in this poem, as well asn the way that it just flows off the tongue (the story's dang awesome too, sadness, triumph, immortality, salvation, love, it has it all).
[img]smilies/smile.gif[/img] [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img] [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:56 AM December 10, 2003: Message edited by: Secret Fire ]

Theodens verse, Where is the horse and the rider?

I've already posted my favourite here. Not only does it show off the complexity and subtlety of Tolkien's linguistic invention, but the English version is a very evocative piece in its own right.

If anyone ever tells you that Tolkien wasn't a good poet, Oilima Markirya is your ready-made rebuttal.

There are so many...
Legolas' Song of the Sea... I second that one. hasn't anybody written a tune for it? I can't find one... nor is it easy to fit to a celtic tune, I've tried.

Eomer's battle-cry:

Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising
I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.
To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:
Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!

And then, this by Sam; (great tune can be found on Starlit Jewel album)

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 maybe '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.

The Road Goes Ever Ever on is one of my personal favourites. Although I really enjoy Frodo's poem about Gandalf. That one is really amazing.

That is a really hard question!

In no particular order:

- Aragorn's Riddle (All that is gold...)
- The song Sam sings in Cirith Ungol
- Three Rings...
- Eomer's battle cry
- The poem Bilbo says to Frodo in Rivendell (I sit beside the Fire and Think...)
- Earendil was a Mariner

To name a few.

Addendum to my post up above there... here's the first two brilliant lines of Errantry, the alternate version to The Flammifer of Westernesse.

There was a merry passenger,
a messenger, a mariner

I strongly suggest you look for it (e.g. in the Tales from the Perilous Realm collection) and read the whole thing. The part about jousting with elven knights is just too cool.

Ah, yes... Aragorn's riddle. Now tha you mention it, I realize that it IS my favorite song, other than the Land of Mordor, Where the Shadows Lie poem.

^That^ is what it should be called. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

THE HOARD
 

When the moon was new and the sun young
of silver and gold the gods sung:
in the green grass they silver spilled,
and the white waters they with gold filled.
Ere the pit was dug or Hell yawned,
ere dwarf was bred or dragon spawned,
there were Elves of old, and strong spells
under green hills in hollow dells
they sang as they wrought many fair things,
and the bright crowns of the Elf-kings.
But their doom fell, and their song waned,
by iron hewn and by steel chained.
Greed that sang not, nor with mouth smiled,
in dark holes their wealth piled,
graven silver and carven gold:
over Elvenhome the shadow rolled.

There was an old dwarf in a dark cave,
to silver and gold his fingers clave;
with hammer and tongs and anvil-stone
he worked his hands to the hard bone.
and coins he made, and strings of rings,
and thought to buy the power of kings.
But his eyes grew dim and his ears dull
and the skin yellow on his old skull;
through his bony claw with a pale sheen
the stony jewels slipped unseen.
No feet he heard, though the earth quaked.
when the young dragon his thirst slaked.
and the stream smoked at his dark door.
The flames hissed on the dank floor,
and he died alone in the red fire;
his bones were ashes in the hot mire.

There was an old dragon under grey stone;
his red eyes blinked as he lay alone.
His joy was dead and his youth spent,
he was knobbed and wrinkled, and his limbs bent
in the long years to his gold chained;
in his heart's furnace the fire waned.
To his belly's slime gems stuck thick,
silver and gold he would snuff and lick:
he knew the place of the least ring
beneath the shadow of his black wing.
Of thieves he thought on his hard bed,
and dreamed that on their flesh he fed,
their bones crushed, and their blood drank:
his ears drooped and his breath sank.
Mail-rings rang. He heard them not.
A voice echoed in his deep grot:
a young warrior with a bright sword
called him forth to defend his hoard.
His teeth were knives, and of horn his hide,
but iron tore him, and his flame died.

There was an old king on a high throne:
his white beard lay on knees of bone;
his mouth savoured neither meat nor drink,
nor his ears song; he could only think
of his huge chest with carven lid
where pale gems and gold lay hid
in secret treasury in the dark ground;
its strong doors were iron-bound.
The swords of his thanes were dull with rust,
his glory fallen, his rule unjust,
his halls hollow, and his bowers cold,
but king he was of elvish gold.
He heard not the horns in the mountain-pass,
he smelt not the blood on the trodden grass,
but his halls were burned, his kingdom lost;
in a cold pit his bones were tossed.

There is an old hoard in a dark rock,
forgotten behind doors none can unlock;
that grim gate no man can pass.
On the mound grows the green grass;
there sheep feed and the larks soar,
and the wind blows from the sea-shore.
The old hoard the Night shall keep,
while earth waits and the Elves sleep.

THE CAT
 

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 paid dark-starred,
fleet upon feet,
that oft soft from aloft
leaps on 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.

LITTLE PRINCESS MEE
 

Lovely was she
As in elven-song is told:
She had pearls in hair
All threaded fair;
Of gossamer shot with gold
Was her kerchief made,
And a silver braid
Of stars about her throat.
Of moth-web light
All moonlit-white
She wore a woven coat,
And round her kirtle
Was bound a girdle
Sewn with diamond dew.

She walked by day
Under mantle grey
And hood of clouded blue;
But she went by night
All glittering bright
Under the starlit sky,
And her slippers frail
Of fishes' mail
Flashed as she went by
To her dancing-pool,
And on mirror cool
Of windless water played.
As a mist of light
In whirling flight
A glint like glass she made
Wherever her feet
Of silver fleet
Flicked the dancing-floor.

She looked on high
To the roofless sky,
And she looked to the shadowy shore;
Then round she went,
And her eyes she bent
And saw beneath her go
A Princess Shee
As fair as Mee:
They were dancing toe to toe!

Shee was as light
As Mee, and as bright;
But Shee was, strange to tell,
Hanging down
With starry crown
Into a bottomless well!
Her gleaming eyes
In great surprise
Looked up to the eyes of Mee:
A marvellous thing,
Head-down to swing
Above a starry sea!

Only their feet
Could ever meet;
For where the ways might lie
To find a land
Where they do not stand
But hang down in the sky
No one could tell
Nor learn in spell
In all the elven-lore.

So still on her own
An elf alone
Dancing as before
With pearls in hair
And kirtle fair
And slippers frail
Of fishes' mail went Mee:
Of fishes' mail
And slippers frail
And kirtle fair
With pearls in hair went Shee!

Through Rohan over fen and field where the long grass grows
The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes.
'What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight?
Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?'
'I saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey;
I saw him walk in empty lands, until he passed away
Into the shadows of the North. I saw him then no more.
The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor.'
'O Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar,
But you came not from the empty lands where no men are.'


From the mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones;
The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans.
'What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve?
Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve.'
'Ask not of me where he doth dwell-so many bones there lie
On the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky;
So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea.
Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!'
'O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south,
But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey sea's mouth.'


From the Gate of Kings the North Wind rides, and past the roaring falls;
And clear and cold about the tower its loud horn calls.
'What news from the North, O mighty wind, do you bring to me today?
What news of Boromir the Bold? For he is long away.'
'Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought.
His cloven shield, his broken sword, they to the water brought.
His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest;
And Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its breast.'
'O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze
To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days.'

I like Aragorn's poem, the Rings one, but most of all the one when Finrod is battling with Sauron.

Ode to the Merry Fellow
 

What? Nobody likes Ol' Tom? Lemme guess... His eyes arn't blue enough? I will prove you wrong!

Never guess that Ol' Tom can be a shepherd, huh? :D

Eomer's battle cry; Lament for Eorl; Theoden's cry:

Arise, arise, Riders of Theoden!
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

And also the death-song of the Pelennor Fields.

Was all the poetry in the movies Tolkien's? I know it wasn't all in the right place.