ONE RING

By: J. R. R. Tolkien

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

 OVER THE MISTY MOUNTAINS COLD

By: J. R. R. Tolkien

Far over the Misty Mountains cold Goblets they carved there for themselves
To dungeons deep and caverns old And harps of gold, where no man delves
We must away, ere break of day There lay they long, and many a song
To seek our pale enchanted gold. Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells, The pines were roaring on the height,
While hammers fell like ringing bells The wind was moaning in the night.
In places deep, where dark things sleep, The fire was red, it flaming spread,
In hollow halls beneath the fells. The trees like torches blazed with light.

For ancient king and elvish lord The bells were ringing in the dale
There many a gleaming golden hoard And men looked up with faces pale;
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire,
To hide in gems on hilt of sword. Laid low their towers and houses frail.

On silver necklaces they strung The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire They fled the hall to dying fall
They meshed the light of moon and sun. Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold Far over the Misty Mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns old To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day, We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold. To win our harps and gold from him!
 ROADS GO EVER ON
By: J. R. R. Tolkien
Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.
Roads go ever ever on,
Under cloud and under star.
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen,
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green,
And trees and hills they long have known.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone.
Let others follow, if they can!
Let them a journey new begin.
But I at last with weary feet
Will turn towards the lighted inn,
My evening-rest and sleep to meet.
Still 'round the corner there may wait
A new road or secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.
 JOURNEY’S END

By: J. R. R. Tolkien

In western lands beneath the Sun

The flowers may rise in Spring,

The trees may bud, the waters run,

The merry finches sing.

Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night,

And swaying branches bear

The Elven-stars as jewels white

Amid their branching hair.

Though here at journey's end I lie

In darkness buried deep,

Beyond all towers strong and high,

Beyond all mountains steep,

Above all shadows rides the Sun

And Stars for ever dwell:

I will not say the Day is done,

Nor bid the Stars farewell.

 A PECK OF GOLD

By: Robert Frost

Dust always blowing about the town,

Except when sea-fog laid it down,

And I was one of the children told

Some of the blowing dust was gold.

All the dust the wind blew high

Appeared like god in the sunset sky,

But I was one of the children told

Some of the dust was really gold.

Such was life in the Golden Gate:

Gold dusted all we drank and ate,

And I was one of the children told,

'We all must eat our peck of gold.'