John Ronald Reuel Tolkien

(3 January 1892 – 2 September 1973 / Orange Free State)

John Ronald Reuel Tolkien Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
1. All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter 1/3/2003
2. All Woods Must Fail 1/3/2003
3. All Ye Joyful 1/3/2003
4. Athelas 1/3/2003
5. Bath-Song 1/3/2003
6. Bilbo's Last Song (At The Grey Havens) 1/3/2003
7. Bregalad's Lament 1/3/2003
8. Cat 1/3/2003
9. Durin 1/3/2003
10. Earendil 1/3/2003
11. Elbereth 1/3/2003
12. Finrod's Song 1/3/2003
13. Gandalf's Song Of Lorien 1/3/2003
14. Gil-Galad 1/3/2003
15. I Sit And Think 1/3/2003
16. Journey's End 1/3/2003
17. Lament For Boromir 1/3/2003
18. Lament For Eorl The Young 1/3/2003
19. Lebennin 1/3/2003
20. Namárië 1/3/2003
21. Nimrodel 1/3/2003
22. O! Where Are You Going? 1/3/2003
23. One Ring 1/3/2003
24. One White Tree 1/3/2003
25. Over The Misty Mountains Cold 1/3/2003
26. Roads Go Ever On 1/3/2003
27. Seasons 1/3/2003
28. Sing All Ye People! 1/3/2003
29. The King 1/3/2003
30. The Little House Of Lost Play (Mar Vanwa Tyalieva) 1/3/2003
31. The Man In The Moon Came Down Too Soon 11/17/2011
32. The Man In The Moon Stayed Up Too Late 1/3/2003
33. The Sea 1/3/2003
34. Theoden 1/3/2003
35. Theoden's Fall 1/3/2003
36. Tinuviel 1/3/2003
37. To The Bottle I Go 1/3/2003
38. Troll Sat Alone On His Seat Of Stone 1/3/2003
Best Poem of John Ronald Reuel Tolkien

I Sit And Think

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 never 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 ...

Read the full of I Sit And Think

The Sea

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 gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending and our years failing.
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,

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