See how the forest stands barren,
The tall trees all fallen in silence;
Look how the fair fields lie fallow,
All littered with bones of the slain.
Hear how the great halls ring empty,
The greenswards no longer with joy.
For now hold the high hills no more
Aught but flowers of gloom;
Ne’er has the wind felt so chill
Save only in dead winter’s storm.
This poem, which I wrote (probably in high school) in an attempt to capture some of the same emotions as I got from some of Tolkien’s laments, is the only poem I’ve written I can think of that fits the day. I also probably intended it to fit in the outline of the history of the Shine Cycle at the beginning of the War of Power, just after the first death of the King. In any case, I’ve also posted it to my wiki, and, as always, eagerly request and greatly appreciate your feedback of any kind (though the more substantial the better), including comments, questions, critique, or suggestions (especially of a real title or what to post next, since I’m running out of old material).