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 One month from tomorrow, another as-yet-unpublished writing from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 :)
