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