Part 5 (2/2)

When winter comes, I would meet winter here.

I would not seek the desert, or red palaces Where reigns the sun, nor sail to magic isles, Nor climb the h.o.a.ry mountains' stony terraces; 130.

And tolling faintly over windy miles To my heart calls no distant bell that rings In crowded cities of the Earthly Kings.

For here is heartsease still, and deep content, Though sadness haunt the Land of withered Elms 135.

(Alalminr in the Faery Realms); And making music still in sweet lament The Elves here holy and immortal dwell, And on the stones and trees there lies a spell.

I give lastly the final poem, in the second of two slightly different versions; composed (as I believe) nearly half a century after the first.

The Trees of Kortirion I.

Alalminr O ancient city on a leaguered hill!

Old shadows linger in your broken gate, Your stones are grey, your old halls now are still, Your towers silent in the mist await

5.

Their crumbling end, while through the storeyed elms The River Gliding leaves these inland realms And slips between long meadows to the Sea, Still bearing down by weir and murmuring fall One day and then another to the Sea;

10.

And slowly thither many days have gone Since first the Edain built Kortirion.

Kortirion! Upon your island hill With winding streets, and alleys shadow-walled Where even now the peac.o.c.ks pace in drill

15.

Majestic, sapphirine and emerald, Once long ago amid this sleeping land Of silver rain, where still year-laden stand In unforgetful earth the rooted trees That cast long shadows in the bygone noon,

20.

And whispered in the swiftly pa.s.sing breeze, Once long ago, Queen of the Land of Elms, High City were you of the Inland Realms.

Your trees in summer you remember still: The willow by the spring, the beech on hill;

25.

The rainy poplars, and the frowning yews Within your aged courts that muse In sombre splendour all the day, Until the firstling star comes glimmering, And flittermice go by on silent wing;

30.

Until the white moon slowly climbing sees In shadow-fields the sleep-enchanted trees Night-mantled all in silver-grey.

Alalminor! Here was your citadel, Ere bannered summer from his fortress fell;

35.

About you stood arrayed your host of elms: Green was their armour, tall and green their helms, High lords and captains of the trees.

But summer wanes. Behold, Kortirion!

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