In the willow-meads of Tasarinan I walked in the Spring.
Ah! the sight and the smell of the Spring in Nan-tasarion!
And I said that was good.

I wandered in Summer in the elm-woods of Ossiriand.
Ah! the light and the music in the Summer by the Seven Rivers of Ossir!
And I thought that was best.

To the beeches of Neldoreth I came in the Autumn.
Ah! the gold and the red and the sighing of leaves in the Autumn in Taur-na-neldor!
It was more than my desire.

To the pine-trees upon the highland of Dorthonion I climbed in the Winter.
Ah! the wind and the whiteness and the black branches of Winter upon Orod-na-Thon!
My voice went up and sang in the sky.

And now all those lands lie under the wave.
And I walk in Ambarona, in Tauremorna, in Aldalome.
In my own land, in the country of Fangorn,
Where the roots are long,
And the years lie thicker than the leaves.
In Tauremornalome.