turned to the window again,singing softly.
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 there were before,
I listen for returning feet
and voices on the door.
-By Bilbo Baggins
Lord of the Rings,The Ring goes South