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| Kortirion among the Trees by J.R.R. Tolkien | | {{stub}} |
| | {{disambig-two|the poem|city|[[Kortirion]]}} |
| | '''''Kortirion among the Trees''''' is a poem by [[J.R.R. Tolkien]]. |
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| O fading town upon an inland hill
| | The poem was published in ''[[The Book of Lost Tales Part One]]''. |
| Old shadows linger in thine ancient gate
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| Thy robe is grey thine old heart now is still
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| Thy towers silent in the mist await
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| Their crumbling end while through the storeyed elms
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| The Gliding Water leaves these inland realms | |
| And slips between long meadows to the Sea
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| Still bearing downward over murmurous falls
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| One day and then another to the Sea | |
| And slowly thither many years have gone
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| Since first the Elves here built Kortirion
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| O climbing town upon thy windy hill
| | [[Category:Poems by J.R.R. Tolkien]] |
| With winding streets and alleys shady-walled
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| Where now untamed the peacocks pace in drill
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| Majestic sapphirine and emerald
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| Amid the girdle of this sleeping land
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| Where silver falls the rain and gleaming stand
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| The whispering host of old deep-rooted trees
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| That cast long shadows in many a bygone noon
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| And murmured many centuries in the breeze
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| Thou art the city of the Land of Elms
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| Alalminórë in the Fairy Realms
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| Sing of thy trees Kortirion again
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| The beech on hill the willow in the fen
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| The rainy poplars and the frowning yews
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| Within thine agéd courts that muse
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| In sombre splendour all the day
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| Until the twinkle of the early stars
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| Comes glinting through their sable bars
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| And the white moon climbing up the sky
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| Looks down upon the ghosts of trees that die
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| Slowly and silently from day to day
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| O Lonely Isle here was thy citadel
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| Ere bannered summer from his fortress fell
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| Then full of music were thine elms
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| Green was their armour green their helms
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| The Lords and Kings of all thy trees
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| Sing then of elms renowned Kortirion
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| That under summer crowds their full sail on
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| And shrouded stand like masts of verdurous ships
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| A fleet of galleons that proudly slips
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| Across long sunlit seas.
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| Thou art the inmost province of the fading isle
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| Where linger yet the Lonely Companies
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| Still undespairing here they slowly file
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| Along thy paths with solemn harmonies
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| The holy people of an elder day
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| Immortal Elves that singing fair and fey
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| Of vanished things that were and could be yet
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| Pass like a wind among the rustling trees
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| A wave of bowing grass and we forget
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| Their tender voices like wind-shaken bells
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| Of flowers their gleaming hair like golden asphodels
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| Once Spring was here with joy and all was fair
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| Among the trees but Summer drowsing by the stream
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| Heard trembling in her heart the secret player
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| Pipe out beyond the tangle of her forest dream
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| The long-drawn tune that elvish voices made
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| Foreseeing Winter through the leafy glade
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| The late flowers nodding on the ruined walls
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| Then stooping heard afar that haunting flute
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| Beyond the sunny aisles and tree-propped halls
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| For thin and clear and cold the note
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| As strand of silver glass remote
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| Then all thy trees Kortirion were bent
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| And shook with sudden whispering lament
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| For passing were the days and doomed the nights
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| When flitting ghost-moths danced as satellites
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| Round tapers in the moveless air
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| And doomed already were the radiant dawns
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| The fingered sunlight drawn across the lawns
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| The odour and the slumbrous noise of meads
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| Where all the sorrel flowers and pluméd weeds
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| Go down before the scyther’s share
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| When cool October robed her dewy furze
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| In netted sheen of gold-shot gossamers
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| Then the wide-umbraged elms began to fail
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| Their mourning multitude of leaves grew pale
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| Seeing afar the icy spears
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| Of Winter marching blue behind the sun
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| Of bright All-Hallows. Then their hour was done
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| And wanly borne on wings of amber pale
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| They beat the wide airs of the fading vale
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| And flew like birds across the misty meres
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| This is the season dearest to the heart
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| And time most fitting to the ancient town
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| With waning musics sweet that slow depart
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| Winding with echoed sadness faintly down
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| The paths of stranded mist. O gentle time
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| When the late mornings are begemmed with rime
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| And early shadows fold the distant woods!
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| The Elves go silent by their shining hair
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| They cloak in twilight under secret hoods
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| Of grey and filmy purple and long bands
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| Of frosted starlight sewn by silver hands
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| And oft they dance beneath the roofless sky
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| When naked elms entwine in branching lace
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| The Seven Stars and through the boughs the eye
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| Stares golden-beaming in the round moon’s face
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| O holy Elves and fair immortal Folk
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| You sing then ancient songs that once awoke
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| Under primeval stars before the Dawn
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| You whirl then dancing with the eddying wind
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| As once you danced upon the shimmering lawn
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| In Elvenhome before we were before
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| You crossed wide seas unto this mortal shore
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| Now are thy trees old grey Kortirion
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| Through pallid mists seen rising tall and wan
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| Like vessels floating vague and drifting far
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| Down opal seas beyond the shadowy bar
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| Of cloudy ports forlorn
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| Leaving behind for ever havens loud
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| Wherein their crews a while held feasting proud
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| And lordly ease they now like windy ghosts
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| Are wafted by slow airs to windy coasts
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| And the glimmering sadly down the tide are borne
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| Bare are thy trees become Kortirion
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| The rotted rainment from their bones is gone
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| The seven candles of the Silver Wain
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| Like lighted tapers in a darkened fane
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| Now flare above the fallen year
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| Through court and street now cold and empty lie
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| And Elves dance seldom neath the barren sky
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| Yet under the white moon there is a sound
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| Of buried music still beneath the ground
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| When winter comes I would meet winter here
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| I would not seek the desert or red palaces
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| Where reigns the sun nor tail to magic isles
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| Nor climb the hoary mountains’ stony terraces
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| And tolling faintly over windy miles
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| To my heart calls no distant bell that rings
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| In crowded cities of the Earthly Kings
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| For here is heartsease still and deep content
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| Though sadness haunt the Land of withered Elms
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| And making music still in sweet lament
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| The Elves here holy and immortal dwell
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| And on the stones and trees there lies a spell.
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