Far Over the Misty Mountains
By J.R.R. Tolkien

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold; where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale
And men looked up with faces pale;
The dragon’s ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the misty mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away ere break of day
To win our harps and gold from him!

Nimrodel
By J.R.R. Tolkien

An Elven-maid there was of old,
    A shining star by day:
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
    Her shoes of silver-grey.

A star was bound upon her brows,
    A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
    In Lòrien the fair.

Her hair was long, her limbs were white,
    And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
    As leaf of linden-tree.

Beside the falls of Nimrodel,
    By water clear and cool,
Her voice as falling silver fell   
    Into the shining pool.

Where now she wanders none can tell,
    In sunlight or in shade;
For lost of yore was Nimrodel
    And in the mountains strayed.

The elven-ship in haven grey
    Beneath the mountain-lee
Awaited her for many a day
    Beside the roaring sea.

A wind by night in Northern lands
    Arose, and loud it cried,
And drove the ship from elven-strands
    Across the streaming tide.

When dawn came dim the land was lost,
    The mountains sinking grey
Beyond the heaving waves that tossed
    Their plumes of blinding spray.

Amroth beheld the fading shore
    Now low beyond the swell,
And cursed the faithless ship that bore
    Him far from Nimrodel

Of old he was and Elven-king,
    A lord of tree and glen,
When golden were the boughs in spring
    In fair Lothlòrien.

From helm to sea they saw him leap,
    As arrow from the string,
And dive into the water deep,
    As mew upon the wing.

The wind was in the flowing hair,
    The foam about him shone;
Afar they saw him strong and fair
    Go riding like a swan.

But from the West has come no word,
    and on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
    Of Amroth evermore.

~Nimrodel

The Black-Berry Fairy's song
By Cicely Mary Barker

My berries cluster black and thick
For rich and poor alike to pick.

I'll tear your dress, and cling, and tease,
And scratch your hands and arms and knees.

I'll stain your fingers and your face,
And then I'll laugh at your disgrace.

But when the bramble-jelly's made,
You'll find your trouble well repaid.