In western lands beneath the Sun The flowers may rise in Spring, The trees may bud, the waters run, The merry finches sing. Or there maybe `tis cloudless night, And swaying branches bear The Elven-stars as jewels white Amid their branching hair. Though here at journey`s end I lie In darkness buried deep, Beyond all towers strong and high, Beyond all mountains steep, Above all shadows rides the Sun And Stars for ever dwell: I will not say the Day is done, Nor bid the Stars farewell.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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