Under leaf and under tree,
Under moon and under star,
Long you walked, before the sea
Bore you to the realm afar.
Too fair for man, too stern for maid,
As all that race whose days are long.
Sure of bow and keen of blade,
Clear of vision and of song.
Forever young in face, and in
The joy of life by branch and stream,
With starlit eyes of all your kin,
Reflecting centuries of dream.
Alas, I fade, I die, I age,
Hourly the sand runs from the glass.
Your beauty still runs unassuaged
Over fern and over grass.
Oh, Greenleaf! Thranduil's son!
Would that those eyes had turned on me,
And timeless, ageless, we could run
Beneath the stars, beyond the sea.
Elizabeth Hopkinson