Saturday, September 19, 2015

leaves of gold

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold,
and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came
and in the branches blew.
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon,
the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin
there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve
in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls
of Elven Tirion.
There long the golden leaves have grown
upon the branching years,
While here beyond the Sundering Seas
now fall the Elven-tears.
O Lorien! The Winter comes,
the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream,
the River flows away.
O Lorien! Too long I have dwelt
upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined
the golden elanor.
But if of ships I now should sing,
what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back
across so wide a Sea?

--J.R.R. Tolkien


Harlequin said...

Those leaves that turn from natures green ….. a mind inspiring piece ... We sat upon our chairs around an old wood table in an Oxford Tavern (The Eagle & Child)

Where in history, before us sat, the minds of - Tolkien, C.S.Lewis & a bunch of other souls, all imbibed in the late night supping of their fledgling aspirations.

At our garden end, in small pockets, those leaves of green began to mimic extreme automotive metallic colours mid-way through our August month ...

Iulia Flame said...
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Iulia Flame said...

Was it early for the colors to appear in your garden? Here, too, the colors this Autumn have been varied and the leaves deserve at least a song--

Never have I sat at table in The Eagle & Child, but Tolkien was the third author I discovered as a small child, after the author of Dick & Jane and then E.B. White. The beauty of the language and the mythic worlds mesmerized me until I convinced my sister to join in the game, and we even drew maps of Middle Earth while playing in the sandbox. Lothlorien always held an especial fascination for me.

This year I re-read the words of all of the Inklings -- Charles Williams, too -- and new insights appear --

of fluid dynamics and flight In another dream, Tulugaq, the Raven, flies over the ocean. She, the sea, hungers for Chronos. A drum is ...

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