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