| Lyrics: | For passing where the days, my friend
and doomed the nights,
when flitting ghostmoths
danced
round tapers in the moveless air.
And doomed already were,
the radiant
dawns,
the odour and the noise of meads
and all about is night.
One moment now may
give us more
than fifty years of reason,
our minds shall drink of every pore
the spirit
of the season
To her fair works did nature link
the human souls that through me
ran
and much it grieved my heart to think
what I can make of man.
You look around
on Middle-Earth
as if she for no purpose bore you,
as if you were her first-born
birth,
and none had lived before you.
I sit upon this old grey stone,
and dream my
time away. |
