An Elvish Song

As flowers dance upon the breeze

And white clouds sail by,

The leaves rustle on the wind

And here on the hill sits I,

The sun begins to slowly set

And slinks down off to bed,

The sky turns now to velvet black

The silver moon now shows his head,

And now the hour grows very late

And though I love the night the best,

I must away, to home I go,

To take my evening rest!