A poem. A lament for Belariand.
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Lament for Belariand
My own land, Belariand!
Now when I walk through the stands
Of trees in the ancient lands
(The best land, Belariand;
My own land) I cry and call,
'Is this the end? 'Tis the fall
Of fair Belariand. Now all
The Elf-maidens have fair cause
To lament and raise to the sky
A great wailing and a cry:
"Belariand, why did you die?
Was it Morgoth? Was it I?"'
Belariand, the dear land;
Belariand, my own land.
Alas, fair Belariand!
How I miss my own sweet land!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Namarie,
Mac
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lament for Belariand
My own land, Belariand!
Now when I walk through the stands
Of trees in the ancient lands
(The best land, Belariand;
My own land) I cry and call,
'Is this the end? 'Tis the fall
Of fair Belariand. Now all
The Elf-maidens have fair cause
To lament and raise to the sky
A great wailing and a cry:
"Belariand, why did you die?
Was it Morgoth? Was it I?"'
Belariand, the dear land;
Belariand, my own land.
Alas, fair Belariand!
How I miss my own sweet land!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Namarie,
Mac
