Gold are the Beeches in Ardaranel
The summers there bring joy to me
The leaves in autumn too glorious to tell
But ever my thoughts seek the sea.
Even now it calls with perpetual voice.
Farther I drift from grass and tree,
The Doom of elves, the age-old choice:
Stay or sail to Faerie.
The memory of stars upon the sea
The ancient folk cannot suppress.
It sings to me of High Faerie,
The Havens where my heart doth rest.
For sun and grass and forest glade
Long have been my heart's content,
But all these lands grow pale and fade
As elves sing their sad lament.
For the thought of stars upon the sea
I am unable to suppress.
It speaks to me of Fair Faerie.
The Havens where my heart doth rest.
