The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for 12/18

Sam's Song
by J.R.R. Tolkien

I sit upon the stones alone;
the fire is burning red.
the tower is tall, the mountains dark;
all living things are dead.
In western lands the sun may shine,
there flower and tree in spring
is opening, is blossoming;
and there the finches sing

But here I sit alone and think
of days when grass was green;
and earth was brown, and I was young;
they might have never been
For they are past, for ever lost,
and buried here I lie.
and deep beneath the shadows sink,
where hope and daylight die.

But still I sit and think of you;
I see you far away
Walking down the homely roads
on a bright and windy day.
It was merry then when I could run
to answer to your call,
could hear your voice or take your hand;
but now the night must fall.
And now beyond the world I sit,
and know not where you lie!
O master dear, will you not hear
my voice before we die?

* * * *

I am going now. Goodbye. *g*

  • Greetings from the Canal

    It rained early in the morning on Friday and again in the afternoon -- the first thunderstorm of the season, which displeased the kittens so much…

  • Poem for Friday and Canal Thursday

    Letter Beginning with Two Lines by Czesław Miłosz By Matthew Olzmann You whom I could not save, Listen to me. Can we agree Kevlar backpacks…

  • Poem for Thursday and McCrillis Flowers

    A Violin at Dusk By Lizette Woodworth Reese Stumble to silence, all you uneasy things, That pack the day with bluster and with fret. For here…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded