Stopping At Moria On A Winter Evening
Whose halls these are I think I know.
Their home has left the mountain though;
They will not care that I've stopped here
To stay the night in from the snow.
The orcs inside must think it queer
That I have stopped, no comrades near
Between the entryway and lake
With darker forces dwelling here.
Their master gives the ground a shake.
He's warning me of my mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of northern wind and frozen flake
These halls are perilous and deep.
I have not moved nor made a peep,
But something else disturbs my sleep.
But something else disturbs my sleep.