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