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


Sing hey! For the bath at close of day
that washes the weary mud away
A loon is he that will not sing
O! Water Hot is a noble thing!

O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,
and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;
but better then rain or rippling streams
is Water Hot that smokes and steams.

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