O fading town upon an island hill
Old shadows linger in thine ancient gate
Thy robe is grey, thine old heart now is still;
Thy towers silent in the mist await their crumbling end
While through the storeyed elms
The gliding black water leaves these inland realms
And slips between long meadows to the Sea
Still bearing downward over murmurous falls
One day and then another to the Sea
And slowly thither many years have gone
All thy trees, Kortirion, were bent
And shook with sudden whispering lament:
For passing were the days, and doomed the nights
When flittering ghost-moths danced round
Tapers in the moveless air nighttime
And doomed already were the radiant dawns
The odour and the noise of meads
When all thy trees were bent
And shook with sudden whispering lament
And slowly thither many years have gone
Since first the elves here built ancient, renowned Kortirion
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