John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
an English writer, poet, philologist, and university professor, best known as the author of the classic high fantasy works The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and The Silmarillion.
Tolkien was Rawlinson and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon at Oxford University from 1925 to 1945 and Merton Professor of English Language and Literature there from 1945 to 1959. He was a close friend of C. S. Lewis—they were both members of the informal literary discussion group known as the Inklings. Tolkien was appointed a Commander of the Order of the British Empire by Queen Elizabeth II on 28 March 1972.
After his death, Tolkien's son Christopher published a series of works based on his ... more »
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John Ronald Reuel Tolkien Poems
All That is Gold Does Not Glitter
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
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;
Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, Ash nazg thrakutulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul. Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
In western lands beneath the Sun The flowers may rise in Spring, The trees may bud, the waters run, The merry finches sing.
The fat cat on the mat may seem to dream of nice mice that suffice for him, or cream;
All Woods Must Fail
O! Wanderers in the shadowed land Despair not! For though dark they stand, All woods there be must end at last, And see the open sun go past:
Bilbo's Last Song (At the Grey Havens)
Day is ended, dim my eyes, But journey long before me lies. Farewell, friends! I hear the call. The ship's beside the stony wall.
Gil-galad was an Elven-king. Of him the harpers sadly sing: The last whose realm was fair and free Between the mountains and the sea.
All Ye Joyful
Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together! The wind's in the tree-top, the wind's in the heather; The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower, And bright are the windows of night in her tower.
Roads Go Ever On
Roads go ever ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea;
The world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the Moon was seen, No words were laid on stream or stone, When Durin woke and walked along.
The Man In The Moon Stayed Up Too Late
There is an inn, a merry old inn beneath an old grey hill, And there they brew a beer so brown That the Man in the Moon himself came down
Over the Misty Mountains Cold
Far over the Misty Mountains cold, To dungeons deep and caverns old, We must away, ere break of day, To seek our pale enchanted gold.
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!
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All That is Gold Does Not Glitter
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.