Recollection of thoughts about Maglor. Part two
Disclamour:Belongs to Tolkien
Makalaure, hewer of gold.
It was that name
Your mother gave to you.
Though falsely was it given.
For your voice hewed not gold,
But that of silver.
When you sang, it was as though
The silvery light of Telperion
Spilled from your sweet lips.
Noble and smooth was your music.
It was never gold,
For gold is too fiery, too bold.
You were never the one for battle,
No sword could you hold.
Your hands were for the harp.
Locking people into dreamlike states,
Whenever you plucked the strings.
Now Legend says,
That you walk the shores
Singing in lament of your sorrows.
You never wished for the Silmarils,
Wanting that all could enjoy thir light.