In The Willow-meads Of Tasarinan, I Walked In The Spring.

Ah! The Sight And The Smell Of The Spring In Nantasarion!

And I Said That Was Good.

I Wandered In Summer In The Elm-woods Of Ossiriand.

Ah! The Light And The Music In The Summer By The Seven Rivers Of Ossir!

And I Thought That Was Best.

To The Beeches Of Neldoreth I Came In The Autumn.

Ah! The Gold And The Red And The Sighing Of Leaves In The Autumn In Taurnaneldor!

It Was More Than My Desire.

To The Pine-trees Upon The Highland Of Dorthonion I Climbed In The Winter.

Ah! The Wind And The Whiteness And The Black Branches Of Winter Upon Orodna-Thôn!

My Voice Went Up And Sang In The Sky.

And Now All Those Lands Lie Under The Wave,

And I Walk In Ambarona, In Tauremorna, In Aldalómë,

In My Own Land, In The Country Of Fangorn,

Where The Roots Are Long,

And The Years Lie Thicker Than The Leaves