Reflections on Life's Journey from J. R. R. Tolkien

Hello everyone –

Longtime listmembers will recall that I’ve been a major fan of the writings of J. R. R. Tolkien since my sophomore year of high school, when I read THE HOBBIT and THE LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy for the first time. (I try to revisit them every decade or so.) One month from tomorrow, another as-yet-unpublished writing from Tolkien’s Middle Earth legendarium will be released – THE FALL OF GONDOLIN (his first-ever foray into the mythology of Middle Earth, the initial version of which was penned in 1916). In anticipation of that upcoming literary event, here are three poems from Tolkien that I have found particularly meaningful through the years – reflections on life’s journey, in which every ending marks a new beginning.

“You & Me and the Cottage of Lost Play” (1916)

By J. R. R. Tolkien (1892-1973)

You and me--we know that land

And often have been there

In the long old days, old nursery days,

A dark child and a fair.

Was it down the paths of firelight dreams

In winter cold and white,

Or in the blue-spun twilit hours

Of little early tucked-up beds

In drowsy summer night,

That You and I got lost in Sleep

And met each other there--

Your dark hair on your white nightgown,

And mine was tangled fair?

We wandered shyly hand in hand,

Or rollicked in the fairy sand

And gathered pearls and shells in pails,

While all about the nightingales

Were singing in the trees.

We dug for silver with our spades

By little inland sparkling seas,

Then ran ashore through sleepy seas,

And down a warm and winding lane

And never never found again

Between high whispering trees.

The air was neither night or day,

But faintly dark with softest light,

When first there glimmered into sight

The Cottage of Lost Play.

'Twas builded very very old

White, and thatched with straws of gold,

And pierced with peeping lattices

That looked toward the sea;

And our own children's garden-plots

Were there--our own forget-me-nots,

Red daisies, cress and mustard,

And blue nemophile.

O! All the borders trimmed with box

Were full of favorite flowers--of phlox,

Of larkspur, pinks, and hollyhocks

Beneath a red may-tree:

And all the paths were full of shapes,

Of tumbling happy white-clad shapes,

And with them You and Me.

And some had silver watering-cans

And watered all their gowns,

Or sprayed each other; some laid plans

To build them houses, fairy towns,

Or dwellings in the trees;

And some were clambering on the roof;

Some crooning lonely and aloof;

And some were dancing fairy-rings

And weaving pearly daisy-strings,

Or chasing golden bees;

But here and there a little pair

With rosy cheeks and tangled hair

Debated quaint old childish things--

And we were one of these.

But why it was there came a time

When we could take the road no more,

Though long we looked, and high would climb,

Or gaze from many a seaward shore

To find the path between sea and sky

To those old gardens of delight;

And how it goes now in that land,

If there the house and gardens stand,

Still filled with children clad in white--

We know not, You and I.

And why it was Tomorrow came

And with his grey hand led us back;

And why we never found the same

Old cottage, or the magic track

That leads between a silver sea

And those old shores and gardens fair

Where all things are, that ever were--

We know not, You and Me.

“Traveling Song”

Upon the hearth the fire is red,

Beneath the roof there is a bed;

But not yet weary are our feet,

Still round the corner we may meet

A sudden tree or standing stone

That none have seen but we alone.

Tree and flower, leaf and grass,

Let them pass! Let them pass!

Hill and water under sky,

Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate,

And though we pass them by today,

Tomorrow we may come this way

And take the hidden paths that run

Towards the Moon or to the Sun.

Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,

Let them go! Let them go!

Sand and stone and pool and dell,

Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadows to the edge of night,

Until the stars are all alight.

Then world behind and home ahead,

We'll wander back to home and bed.

Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,

Away shall fade! Away shall fade!

Fire and lamp and meat and bread,

And then to bed! And then to bed!

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate,

And though I oft have passed them by,

A day will come at last when I

Shall take the hidden paths that run

West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

“I Sit Beside the Fire”

I sit beside the fire and think

of all that I have seen

of meadow-flowers and butterflies

in summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer

in autumns that there were,

with morning mist and silver sun

and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think

of how the world will be

when winter comes without a spring

that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things

that I have never seen:

in every wood in every spring

there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think

of people long ago

and people who will see a world

that I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think

of times there were before,

I listen for returning feet

and voices at the door.

Until next time –

Rob :)