Farewell to Lórien

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Aslak
Posts: 41
Joined: Tue Jul 26, 2005 3:31 pm
Location: Uppsala, Sweden

Farewell to Lórien

Post by Aslak »

Here is a poem I wrote about 1,5 years ago when I had a craze for Tolkien (I might as well add now though that I don't like Jackson's movies). The poems is very inspired by Poe. Lines 5-8 in the second stanza are, more or less, taken from Poe's The Village Street. http://www.netpoets.com/classic/poems/049014.htm


O blissful were the days of yore
in Lórien the fair.
When scent of golden Elanor
did satiate the air.
The flowing Rivers bright did sing
their ancient melody,
which softly in the breeze did ring
in everlasting glee.
The Trees were dancing to the tune,
so merrily and bright.
They did not stop for Sun or Moon;
to Night’s and Day’s delight.
Yes, blissful were the days of old,
the days of joy and glee untold,
in Lórien, in Laurelindórenan.

And in those golden days of yore
my heart was e’er at peace.
I walked with her, whom I adore
beneath the dancing Trees.
She walked there radiant by my side
like light of stars serene;
she walked in beauty there, my bride,
my Night’s irradiate Queen.
A single second at her side
was like eternal bliss!
And while she with me did abide
nothing would go amiss.
But nothing is eternal,
especially not delight;
no more my Queen nocturnal
will illuminate My Night.
She sought the havens long ago
and sailed into the West,
and no more with her radiant glow
will this poor soul be blest.
For gone is now My starlight Queen,
and nevermore she will be seen
in Lórien, in Laurelindórenan.

No more the Trees will dance now,
no more the Rivers sing;
no more the lark upon his bough
will welcome sparkling spring.
No more upon fair Amroth’s Hill,
as in the days of yore,
will grow the livid Niphredil
the golden Elanor.
For all that’s good is leaving,
bound for the Western Shore,
and my soul, all torn by grieving,
will find peace nevermore;
and I sit alone beneath the Sun,
my heart broken, my soul undone,
in Lórien, in Laurelindórenan.
The Imaged Word, it is, that holds
hushed willows anchored in its glow.
It is the unbetrayable reply
whose accent no farewell can know.
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