The following poems, songs, and other quotations were posted by members of TheOneRing.net message boards after Wídfara's death.
From Watson:
By J.R.R. Tolkien, “Bilbo's Last Song at the Grey Havens”
Day is ended, dim my eyes,
but journey long before me lies.
Farewell, friends! I hear the call.
The ship's beside the stony wall.
Foam is white and waves are grey;
beyond the sunset leads my way.
Foam is salt, the wind is free;
I hear the rising of the Sea.
Farewell, friends! The sails are set,
the wind is east, the moorings fret.
Shadows long before me lie,
beneath the ever-bending sky,
but islands lie behind the Sun
that I shall raise ere all is done;
lands there are to west of West,
where night is quiet and sleep is rest.
Guided by the Lonely Star,
beyond the utmost harbour-bar,
I'll find the havens fair and free,
and beaches of the Starlit Sea.
Ship, my ship! I seek the West,
and fields and mountains ever blest.
Farewell to Middle-earth at last.
I see the Star above your mast!
From Leto and gerontius:
By John Donne
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
And those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.
From Rest and Sleep, which but thy picture be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow;
And soonest our best men with thee do go-
Rest of their bones and souls' delivery!
Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die!
From Scout:
By J.R.R. Tolkien, excerpt from “The Road Goes Ever On”
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.
And whither then? I cannot say.
From Annael:
By J.R.R. Tolkien, excerpt from “Return of the King”
But to Sam the evening deepened to darkness as he stood at the Haven; and as he looked at the grey sea he saw only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West. There still he stood far into the night, hearing only the sigh and murmur of the waves on the shores of Middle-earth, and the sound of them sank deep into his heart. Beside him stood Merry and Pippin, and they were silent.
At last the three companions turned away, and never again looking back they rode slowly homewards; and they spoke not word to one another until they came back to the Shire, but each had great comfort in his friends on the long grey road.
From Watson and fak:
By author unknown, attributed to Mary Frye:
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
From Celandine Brandybuck:
By The Indigo Girls, excerpt from “Watershed”
Up on the watershed, standing at the fork in the road
You can stand there and agonize
Till your agony's your heaviest load.
You'll never fly as the crow flies, get used to a country mile.
When you're learning to face the path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while.
From Celede:
By Edna St. Vincent Millay, “Dirge Without Music”
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind;
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.
Crowned
with lilies and with laurel they go,
but I am not resigned
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, - but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,-
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses.
Elegant and curled
is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom.
I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned
From tehanu:
By Manuel Gutierrez, “For Afterwards” (Translation: Gordon Challis)
I would like to die when the day is ending
on the open sea and looking at the sky;
where the agony of death may seem but sleep
and the soul may seem a bird which mounts in flight.
And in the final instants I would hear,
already with the sky and sea alone,
no other sobbing prayers or sobbing voices
than those of waves in their majestic fall.
To die when life is sadly hauling back
its golden nets from out the tide's deep green
and be like yonder sun that dies down slowly:
some very shining thing that's lost from sight.
To die, and young, before unfaithful time
destroys the delicate and gentle crown;
whilst life still tells us: I am yours
although we know so well it will betray us.
From Winsome Elf:
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson
"Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar."
From Telkemeniel:
By J.R.R. Tolkien
To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away, the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
From Annael:
By Kahlil Gibran, excerpts from “The Prophet”
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given
you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping
for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is
asleep upon your bed.
From Alnilam:
By William Shakespeare, excerpt from “Cymbeline”
Fear no more the heat of the sun
Nor the furious winters' rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
Fear no more the frown of the great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke.
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor th' all-dreaded thunder stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come hear thee!
Quiet consummation have,
And renowned be thy grave!
From Ataahua:
By Author unknown, “Death is nothing at all”
Death is nothing at all, I have slipped away into the next room.
I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we still are. Call me by my old
familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used to. Put no difference in your
tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, let it be spoken without effect,
without a trace of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was,
there is an unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well.
From Idril Celebrindal:
By J.R.R. Tolkien
Aragorn sang:
Through Rohan over fen and field where the long grass grows
The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes.
'What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight?
Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?'
'I saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey;
I saw him walk in empty lands, until he passed away
Into the shadows of the North. I saw him then no more.
The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor.'
'O Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar,
But you came not from the empty lands where no men are.'
Then Legolas sang:
From the mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones;
The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans.
'What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve?
Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve.'
'Ask not of me where he doth dwell -- so many bones there lie
On the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky;
So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea.
Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!'
'O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south,
But you came not with the ailing gulls from the grey sea's mouth.'
Then Aragorn sang again:
From the Gate of Kings the North Wind rides, and past the roaring falls;
And clear and cold about the tower its loud horn calls.
'What news from the North, O mighty wind, do you bring to me today?
What news of Boromir the Bold? For he is long away.'
'Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought.
His cloven shield, his broken sword, they do the water brought.
His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest;
And Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its breast.'
'O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze
To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days.'
From Nimfalma Took:
By Joni Mitchell, excerpt from “The Circle Game”
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on a carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round on a circle game.
From DaughterofRohan:
By Author unknown, “If I Knew”
If I knew it would be the last time
That I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly
and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.
If I knew it would be the last time
that I see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss
and call you back for one more.
If I knew it would be the last time
I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would videotape each action and word,
so I could play them back day after day.
If I knew it would be the last time,
I could spare an extra minute
to stop and say "I love you,"
instead of assuming you would KNOW I do.
If I knew it would be the last time
I would be there to share your day,
well I'm sure you'll have so many more,
so I can let just this one slip away.
For surely there's always tomorrow
to make up for an oversight,
and we always get a second chance
to make everything just right.
There will always be another day
to say "I love you," and certainly there's
another chance to say our "Anything I can do?"
But just in case I might be wrong,
and today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you
and I hope we never forget.
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance
you get to hold your loved one tight.
So if you're waiting for tomorrow,
why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes,
you'll surely regret the day,
That you didn't take that extra time
for a smile, a hug, or a kiss
and you were too busy to grant someone,
what turned out to be their one last wish.
So hold your loved ones close today,
and whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them
and that you'll always hold them dear
Take time to say "I'm sorry,"
"Please forgive me, "Thank you," or "It's okay."
And if tomorrow never comes,
you'll have no regrets about today.
From Sundance:
By Author unknown, “Don't Quit”
When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems uphill,
When the funds are low, and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest, if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is strange with its twists and turns,
As everyone of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don't give up though the pace seems slow-
You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out-
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt.
And you never tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far.
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit-
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.
From jordan_the_discursive:
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, excerpt from “A Psalm of Life”
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
From greendragon:
Two poems by Rainer Maria Rilke, translations by Stephen Mitch
“Autumn Day”
Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadows let the wind go free.
Command the fruit to swell on tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now will never have one.
Whoever is alone, will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander on the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.
“Evening”
The sky puts on the darkening blue coat
held for it by a row of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight,
one journeying to heaven, one that falls;
and leave you not at home in either one,
not quite so still as the darkened houses,
not calling to eternity with the passion
of what becomes a star each night and rises;
and leave you (inexpressibly to unravel)
your life with its immensity and fear,
so that now bounded, now immeasurable,
it is alternately stone in you and star.
From Curious:
By R.E.M., “Everybody Hurts”
When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
when you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on.
Don't let yourself go, everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes.
Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along.
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
if you feel like letting go, (hold on)
when you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on.
Everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends.
Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Oh, no. Don't throw your hand.
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone
If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,
when you think you've had too much of this life to hang on.
Well, everybody hurts sometimes,
everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes.
And everybody hurts sometimes. So, hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on. Hold on, hold on. Hold on, hold on. (repeat & fade)
(Everybody hurts. You are not alone.)
From Curious:
By Peter Gabriel, "Don't Give Up"
in this proud land we grew up strong
we were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail
no fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
I've changed my face, I've changed my name
but no one wants you when you lose
don't give up
'cos you have friends
don't give up
you're not beaten yet
don't give up
I know you can make it good
though I saw it all around
never thought I could be affected
thought that we'd be the last to go
it is so strange the way things turn
drove the night toward my home
the place that I was born, on the lakeside
as daylight broke, I saw the earth
the trees had burned down to the ground
don't give up
you still have us
don't give up
we don't need much of anything
don't give up
'cause somewhere there's a place
where we belong
rest your head
you worry too much
it's going to be alright
when times get rough
you can fall back on us
don't give up
please don't give up
'got to walk out of here
I can't take anymore
going to stand on that bridge
keep my eyes down below
whatever may come
and whatever may go
that river's flowing
that river's flowing
moved on to another town
tried hard to settle down
for every job, so many men
so many men no-one needs
don't give up
'cause you have friends
don't give up
you're not the only one
don't give up
no reason to be ashamed
don't give up
you still have us
don't give up now
we're proud of who you are
don't give up
you know it's never been easy
don't give up
'cause I believe there's the a place
there's a place where we belong
From Celandine Brandybuck:
By J.R.R. Tolkien, excerpt from "Leaf by Niggle"
He was going to learn about sheep, and the high passages, and look at a wider sky, and walk ever further and further towards the Mountains, always uphill. Beyond that I cannot guess what became of him. Even little Niggle in his old home could glimpse the Mountains far away, and they got into the borders of his picture; but what they are really like, and what lies beyond them, only those can say who have climbed them.
From huorn:
By Pablo Neruda, excerpt from “Ode to the Present”
This moment as smooth as a board, and fresh, this hour, this day as clean as an untouched glass --not a single spiderweb from the past: we touch the moment with our fingers, we cut it to size, we direct its blooming. It's living, it's alive: it brings nothing from yesterday that can't be redeemed, nothing from the lost past. ----- You are your own moment, your own apple: pluck it from your apple tree. Hold it up in your hand: it shines like a star. Stroke it, sink your teeth into it -- now off you go whistling on your way.