MicorioThough sword shall be rusted, and throne and crown perish, with strength that men trusted, and wealth that they cherish. Here grass is growing, and leaves are yet swinging! The white water flowing, and elves are yet singing! The stars are far brighter, than gems without measure. And the moon is far whiter, than silver in treasure. O where are you going? So late in returning? The river is flowing, The stars are all burning! O whither so laden, so sad and so dreary? Here elf and elf-maiden, now welcome the weary.
No comments yet
Sign in to comment.