In my dreams you come as near as my blood is to my heart,
Your head's against my shoulder, your warmth warms every part;
I am happy in these moments, while you hold me in your arms,
Safe from every earthly danger, safe from Morgoth's evil charms.
But when I wake I'm cold and lonely, and I feel the many miles
That keep you from my kisses, that bar me from your smiles:
You are gone from me forever, To-the-Sea.

Yet you come to me, Anairë, my heart, my soul, my wife,
You come still to me in fancy with the vividness of life,
And I wonder: "Is this real? Have I been so long in error?
"Was the other then the phantom? – The grief, the pain and terror?
"Do no long years divide us? And do we in Aman dwell?
"Was your cheek not chill beneath my lips when I kissed you farewell?"
Why give you me no answer, To-the-Sea?

I remember in my loneliness the colour of your eyes
As grey as shadow, their look, their shape and size,
When I kissed them first, Anairë, on the beach of Ilmarin,
Before the Shadow fell on us, before we knew of sin.
In search of some adventure, in the boldness of our Years –
For time had scarcely touched us then, nor turned our mirth to tears -,
Together we had ridden to the sea.

Your hair was black, your eyes were grey, your lips of palest rose,
When I kissed your mouth, Anairë – how that kiss in memory glows!
You tasted sweet as honey from the bees of Valinor.
Oh Anairë! Could I leave you, thus bound by natural law
To be with you and protect you, when the stars shone on our love?
When I vowed to cherish you all other things above,
Were my promises in vain, sweet To-the-Sea?

I swore to be to you a guide, an ever-present friend,
And to love you, my Anairë, with the love that does not end;
To nurture and defend you as I should my own true wife,
To be your berth and haven in the stormy sea of life,
With its thund'rous waves inhabited by beasts of dreadful fame,
From which I would preserve you. (I was punning on your name;
For Anairë, in our tongue, meant To-the-Sea.)

Now those promises are broken, but you too were unkind.
Your cheek was chill beneath my lips, when weakly you let your mind
O'errule your heart. In vain for mercy did I sue.
Now only in the features of our firstborn may I seek you,
For Turgon and Aredhel into shadows long have passed,
And Arakáno's lifeless dust – lastborn, but not last
In our hearts, my To-the-Sea.

Never more, my darling, will your grey eyes shine on me,
Nor may I from your lips yet drink, like the laden honeybee.
Your voice, so modest and so low, never more will ring
In my enchanted ears as if a nightingale should sing.
For never, while the Ban lasts, can I pass the many miles
That keep you from my kisses, that bar me from your smiles,
In a swanlike vessel going o'er the sea.

Yet still the bond endures; though our bodies far are sundered,
My soul to you is faithful. Let it not be wondered
At! I love you. Love's a chain that's hard to sever.
For all the years between us, my loving heart will never
Cease to yearn after its darling. Was our love not sealed in youth,
When I kissed your mouth, Anairë, in innocence and truth?
You are mine and I am yours still, To-the-Sea.

Your image in my heart holds sway, the queen of my desires.
Though youth has passed, and with it passion's burning fires,
I'd give the world to kiss you, or my life to hear your voice.
Yes, I left you, sweet Anairë, I left you by my choice,
In wilful madness let you go. I know my folly now;
But our unity's unbroken, like the bond 'tween tree and bough,
And I'll love you to the End, my To-the-Sea.

Author's Notes:

Fingolfin's wife Anairë, who remained in Aman at the time of the Flight of the Noldor, is mentioned in 'The History of Middle-earth', as is Arakáno, their youngest child, who died in a battle with orcs soon after the crossing of the Helcaraxë. Anairë's name appears to contain the Quenya prefix ana, 'to, towards',and the word aire, 'sea'.

According to 'Morgoth's Ring', elves would undoubtedly 'retain for many ages the power of generation, if the will and desire were not satisfied; but with the exercise of the power the desire soon ceases, and the mind turns to other things'.

1 Year of the Trees=9.582 years of the sun