October 9, Third Age 3021
I finish the poem with a motif
Along with my musings, I am also taking my feeble attempts at poetry with me. Having completed one, I decided that I should finish the other as well – the one about the Shire; it did not yet tell my full story.
But e'en here, out of Mordor's far-reaching sight,
In my haven falls this the last blow of the fight:
My green untouched country is a brown, barren land,
Its trees felled, its people under tyranny's hand.
The Shire, the Shire! Did I think she stayed free,
West of the Shadow and east of the Sea?
------
The wrongs suffered here I can help to repair,
And the trees spring again, swiftly-growing and fair.
But this beauty that my eyes see my heart does not feel,
For the wounds of my darkness never fully can heal.
The Shire! Thou art saved, but saved not for me;
Though the East I recall, I look west to the Sea.
------
I leave once again, but west turn my sail,
To find the Straight Way where the wind does not fail,
And healing to seek near the Uttermost West,
From pain find reprieve and from all labor, rest.
The Shire! though far, my heart dwells still with thee,
Here east of the world's end, west of the Sea.
------
And the winter of autumn must come in turn there,
And fading are many things ancient and fair.
Though the Elves' world depart and Lórien wane,
Still new beauties shall rise and old shadows remain:
The Shire, where grows yet the last mallorn tree
West of the mountains and east of the Sea.
Author's Note: Argh! When did become unable to format poetry? Just so you'll know, a ------ marks the breaks between stanzas.