The Road Goes Ever On

Dear Friends & Colleagues:

Quotemail is back after an unexpected February hiatus. I was out of the office for a week-and-a-half battling sinus and ear infections. Now spring is almost (but not quite) here, a very busy time of year at the University of Illinois. This is the season when we have many comings and goings: incoming freshmen and transfers are planning their arrivals; seniors are planning their post-graduation adventures; and everyone else (it seems) is looking for a summer internship.

As I reflect on all the comings and goings that characterize life on a major university campus, I often turn to the poetry of J. R. R. Tolkien (1892-1973), who (IMHO) is perhaps the best guide to the human condition in English literature. Tolkien’s poems about journeying cover the full circle from beginning to middle to end – and each ending, for Tolkien, is always a new beginning. So here are some of Tolkien’s best poems about journeys, beginnings, and endings – and everything in between – as you come and go, and the new season of spring knocks on our doors in the Midwest. All of these poems are attributed to the adventurous Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, who set off on his travels during his middle years – and kept on coming and going until the end of his days, which were extraordinarily long.

“The Road Goes Ever On”

The Road goes ever on and on,

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

The Road goes ever on and on

Out from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

Let others follow it who can!

Let them a journey new begin,

But I at last with weary feet

Will turn towards the lighted inn,

My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

“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.

“Bilbo's Last Song (At the Gray Havens)”

Day is ended, dim my eyes,

but journey long before me lies.

Farewell, friends! I hear the call.

The ship's beside the stony wall.

Foam is white and waves are gray;

beyond the sunset leads my way.

Foam is salt, the wind is free;

I hear the rising of the Sea.

Farewell, friends! The sails are set,

the wind is east, the moorings fret.

Shadows long before me lie,

beneath the ever-bending sky,

but islands lie behind the Sun

that I shall raise ere all is done;

lands there are to west of West,

where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star,

beyond the utmost harbor-bar,

I'll find the havens fair and free,

and beaches of the Starlit Sea.

Ship, my ship! I seek the West,

and fields and mountains ever blest.

Farewell to Middle-earth at last.

I see the Star above my mast!

This edition of Quotemail is dedicated to Carol Haynes Sparrenberger (1925-2016), my last surviving aunt, who passed away on February 6. Requiescat in pace.

Rob