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(Lyrics by J.R.R Tolkien)

I sit beside the fire and think

Of all that I have seen,

Of meadow flowers and butterflies

In summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer

In autumns that there were,

With morning mist and silver sun

And wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think

Of how the world will be

When winter comes without a spring

That I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things

That I have never seen:

In every wood in every spring

There is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think

Of people long ago,

And people who will see a world

That I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think

Of times that were before,

I listen for returning feet

And voices at the door.