Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings,
I do not own that many things,
I do not own an elf or tree,
These things that were not meant for me,
I do not own them now, I did not own them then,
Not now, not then not ever again,
I do not own the words I say,
I do not own that much this day,
I do not own my house,
I do not own a mouse,
I do not own Lord of the Rings,
I do not own the rights to things.
Summary: A poem about Luthien Tinuviel.
Beneath the trees,
And westward breeze,
Where dwell the star-light born,
Where running streams,
And fondest dreams,
Await no dusk nor dawn.
Far beautiful the lady there,
Who catches star-light in her hair,
And dances to the forest sound,
And sings to those who stand aground.
Do you hear the forest sing?
And the river bells that ring?
Beneath the stars she dances still,
As she sings before the king,
About a long forgotten thing,
And beauty then surpasses will.
And still she whispers into breeze,
That thread between the swaying trees,
And many to that voice have fell,
To Luthien Tinuviel.
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