|
O fading town upon an island 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 black 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 |
|
All thy trees, |
|
Kortirion, were bent, |
|
And shook with sudden whispering lament: |
|
For passing were the days, and doomed the nights |
|
When flittering ghost-moths danced round tapers in the moveless air nighttime |
|
And doomed already were the radiant dawns, |
|
The odour and the noise of meads, when all thy trees were bent, and shook with sudden whispering lament |
|
And slowly thither many years have gone since first the elves here built ancient, renowned |
|
Kortirion |
