When shades of night are falling upon the leaves of green,
A figure like a shadow of a shadow may be seen.
Fair is his face, and blue-grey are his eyes,
The Elf-King of the forest, to the forest night he cries:
"Alas for my woods, that once were proud and great,
Fading is their glory as the years grow late,
Fading are my people, as shades that meet the day,
And no more shall Men see them, seek though they may.
When the autumn leaves are falling red and gold,
Amidst the swirling mists, his voice sounds clear and cold:
"Alas for my son, who hunted by my side,
The quest was set before him and he would not be denied,
I saw the sea reflected in his eyes of blue-and-grey,
The Blessed Isle had called him; no longer would he stay.
Oh, Legolas! Legolas! The deer are on the heights,
But no more will you hunt with me by cold starlight."
When the boughs are swaying in the soft summer breeze,
The song of the Elf-maidens comes stealing through the trees:
"Where now is Legolas, of all the Elves most fair?
White was his forehead, and golden was his hair.
We put our question to the moon, but he would only say
That Legolas went sailing in a ship of Elven grey.
Oh, Legolas! The harpists play a sweet and mournful tune,
But no more will you come to dance with us beneath the moon.
Elizabeth Hopkinson