High as the endless azure heavens go
And low as the fiery caverns of hell;
With their heads and faces covered,
A white snowy mane;
They are the giants that rule.
They roam the earth they stand
Where they shelter creatures of small;
Lived, they have, in harmony,
So together they stand hand and hand.
Proud these broad giants are.
You have looked upon the majestic,
A brilliant treasure, kept and seen.
None can compare to these giants
As they are the magnificent –
Beor Mountains of Alagaësia.
As old as the hot gazing sun
And the everlasting green a far,
The ancient language tell,
"These are the giants that rule,
Forevermore and always."
A/N:
I'm proud of this poem. I am, really. I made it on the precise hour of 12:00 in the morning. My brain does think better when my fingers are half awake to even write. Anyway, I'd really appreciate it if you reviewed to see what you thought of it. Loved it or Hated it? It does not matter to me, just as long as you say why.
Thanks,
Patty.