Journeys End

In western lands beneath the

The flowers may rise in Spring,

The trees may bud, the waters run,

The merry finches sing.

Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night,

And swaying branches

The Elven-stars as jewels

Amid their branching hair.

Though here at journey's end I

In darkness buried deep,

Beyond all towers strong and high,

Beyond all mountains steep,

Above all shadows rides the

And Stars for ever dwell:

I will not say the Day is done,

Nor bid the Stars farewell.