:: 2013 in books, sort of ::

I love talking about myself, and I found a really fun list of questions to answer, thanks to this blog. here is the little button-thingy, because it adds to the aesthetic interest. hooray! ...but I didn't actually do the link-up, fyi.

so here goes: 20 questions about BOOKS -- et moi. also, je ne parle pas français, je just pretend. (maybe with google translate, but maybe not. I'll never tell.)

1} my overall favorite book this year

I kind of feel like giving up already. THIS IS ASKING TOO MUCH OF MEEEEE!!!! crud, I don't know. seriously. guhh.
   but I guess since I won't be graded on sincerity, probably my favorite book this year was les miserables, brick version. it was fantastic. or maybe --
   I know I'm not supposed to do this. I just can't help it. maybelanternbearersordune. (does saying it faster count as less cheating?)

2} favorite debut

um, I think the only book I read this year that was published this year was kirsten miller's the darkness dwellers (aka kiki strike #3). in that case, that would have to be my favorite, which sucks because #s 1 and 2 were awesome and #3 was not. oh well.

3} books I reread this year

oog. a lot. I'll list five I reread because of their "favorite" status.
- a room with a view, by e. m. forster
- the lantern bearers, by rosemary sutcliff
- count robert of paris, by sir walter scott
- the sherwood ring, by elizabeth marie pope
- baby, by patricia maclachlan

4} favorite covers

chaim potok's the chosen.

john knowles's a separate peace.

the cover pictures were actually taken by the same guy (marc yankus). I love his style. it's almost as good as the books themselves.

6} self-published books I read this year

meredith allady's friendship and folly and amy dashwood's only a novel. both are fantastic books, and meredith allady is one amazing lady. and amy. amy's awesome, too. hi, amy! (I can't resist. LBD is just that quotable.)

7} books that gave me a massive hangover

in a good way? les miserables. dune. less good? vanity fair. mill on the floss. horribly? brisingr. I couldn't stop ranting.

8} best standalone

just to shake things up, I'm going to say rebecca, by daphne du maurier. I swear, that book is one of the most-forgotten but most-deserving-of-classic-status ever. I really love it. (does the fact that the almost-as-good hitchcock movie exists make it not a standalone? because laurence olivier might have had something to do with my appreciation. just saying.)

9} biggest books I read this year

les misérables has made this list too many times already. (or is that not possible?) war & peace; vanity fair; gone with the wind.

10} books I followed for the hype, then loved

this hasn't ever happened. next!

11} most disappointing

definitely the darkness dwellers. WE EXPECTED SO MUCH, and then... oh, I can't start. I'll never stop. grrrrrrr.

12, 13} favorite leading-male and -female characters

winnie foster (tuck everlasting). aquila/dolphin (lantern bearers). but drem (warrior scarlet) and philip hepburn (sylvia's lovers) could both compete for that position. ...now that I think about it, so could andrei volkonsky and natasha what's-her-face (war & peace). quite the decisive person, am I not?

14} best romances

prince andrei and me. sir percy and me. courfeyrac and me. that IS what you were asking, isn't it?
   no??
   oh.
   well then.
betty vanderpoel and james saltyre (the shuttle), for one. count robert of paris and his wife brenhilda (count robert of paris). drem and blai (warrior scarlet). alan and esther (bleak house). danny and maggie, haha (nothing to fear). lucy and george (a room with a view) (did you know I did their wedding invitations?). narrator and max de winter (rebecca). francie and ben (a tree grows in brooklyn).
   okay. I need to stop. right now.

15} books that hit the DNF list

to tell the truth, the first book I ever recall not finishing (finishing is a point of honor with me, even if I hate the book) was this year.
   the sound and the fury by william faulkner. it signified nothing to me.
   seriously, though, I couldn't. it was too much to wade through, too few clues, and too little value to finish. so I didn't.

16} out-of-my-comfort-zone books that I read

dune. I generally avoid sci-fi, fantasy stories, but I heard really good things about it -- like from my dad. so I tried it and loved it. and hated it. ...it was one of those. I'm planning on reading it again, though (just not the sequels. kill me to death. once was enough!).

17} author I read the most

this year? probably rosemary sutcliff. I am an insatiable sutcliff fanatic. however, dickens (duh) and tolstoy could probably compete. and wilkie collins. henry james? elizabeth gaskell? ... I haven't counted.

18} top 5 books I'd recommend based on 2013

- war & peace
- p. g. wodehouse x)
- silver branch (the whole trilogy is... well... *sniff*)
- the woman in white
- murder of roger ackroyd
funny thing is, I could recommend each author, too. and also emmuska orczy, whose awesome books have really helped me through some hard times (like "I'm having a breakdown because there aren't any more sir percy books! WAAAAAH!" with "...wait, there's a sir-percy-was-based-off-of-him story? AWESOME!"). thanks, baroness. 

19} how many books did I read this year?

I don't know! I can't answer this one. at least 50.

20} a book I'm hugely excited for in 2014

I don't know if it's coming out in 2014, but if it is... the next mysterious benedict society book. SQUEE. and, also "if", the next incorrigible children of ashton place. I love those, too.

crikey o'blimey, guys, that was one long post. sorry.

if you scrolled to the bottom to get a nice summary... long post short, I LOVE BOOKS. may you, too, enjoy the literature that comes your way :) 

:: comparisons, contrasts, and copic markers ::

merry christmas!
this is completely unrelated.
I've been thinking about crime & punishment and les miserables and the characters and how they are similar and how they are not. some stuff that occurred to me:

javert and porfiry
they're both policemen; they both hold duty above all else, and that duty takes them to hunting down criminals -- criminals for whom you happen to have sympathy and perhaps even some affection (I shall refrain from mentioning rodya here. oh whoops. haha).
   however, javert's sense of duty blinds him to the spirit of the law, and he forgets mercy in justice, leading him to despair when he is shown mercy by the man he swore to punish ("this. I. swear by. THE STAAAARS" - norm lewis. the best). porfiry instead shows mercy, not turning in the confirmed murderer, and in doing so shows justice: rodya, tortured by the knowledge of his guilt (punishment #1), turns himself in (punishment #2) -- although rodya does find redemption and peace through these punishments (with a little help from sonia. d'aww).

speaking of whom.

fantine and sonia
two redeemed prostitutes.
   both are portrayed as victims of society (no comment), but -- in the world of the book -- are pure in heart; despite their outcast status, they desire the right thing.
   both end up being the 'guiding light' for men who feel trapped by their own dark pasts ("you were my guiding light..." - ramin. the best). fantine gives valjean her daughter and therefore new purpose; sonia gives rodya her service, her life, herself, and therefore new hope.

jean valjean and rodion romanovich raskolnikov
criminals, condemned by the law and by society (once they're discovered. which is not right away). one hides his crime and is, honestly, tortured by his conscience (though he would disagree); the other hides his crime by becoming a philanthropist... but both redeem themselves fully by turning themselves in: the first, to save his soul (and sonia, in a way), the second, to save an innocent man (the second time he's arrested). the first -- rodya, if you haven't gotten that yet -- is persuaded in part by the policeman's mercy; the second's mercy persuades a policeman to depart. from this life. ha ha. so that didn't really work.
   one ends up dead and in heaven. the other ends up alive but going to heaven. and essentially they all live happily ever after.

speaking of which.

dounia and razumihin
they are perfect together, don't you think? she's beautiful and awesome (see part 6, chapter 5). he's only like the most wonderful guy ever and the best best friend possible (see entire book).
   oh, this kind of got off track, didn't it.
we could contrast their relationship with enjolras's and eponine's.
   which is nonexistent. THE WAY IT SHOULD BE.

well, I hope you all had a very merry christmas. I did. I got some copic markers for christmas and I'm in love with them.
   just thought I'd share that :D
...and have a happy new year, too. remember, this is the last week of christmas music before everybody starts complaining about the cold and listening to the beach boys.

:: reason no. 12,695 ::

...that everyone should read dickens, in two words.

eugene. wrayburn.

"'you hear, eugene?' said lightwood over his shoulder. 'you are deeply interested in lime.'
'without lime,' returned the unmoved barrister-at-law, 'my life would be unilluminated by a ray of hope.'"

- our mutual friend, ch. 12
(charles dickens)

:: this is depressing, don't read it ::

in my real life, I've been kind of down. I know it only really surfaced in the last post, but... yeah. 

I've been writing all this sad poetry and stuff, partly because that's what heroines in books do, and I'm doing my best to be a heroine (a la northanger abbey, chapter one). ...it's pretty weird when you think about it, so don't think about it.

I cannot seem to find anyone else who is interested in what I am interested in. old books. dead english people. yes, there are some interesting/fabulous blogs out there about similar things -- the victorian era, or books in general, or old things -- but none of them are what I'm looking for. people then have some quirk: "I WILL READ NOTHING BUT FANTASY" or "I've watched every single period drama out there and now I will tell you about them" or "let's talk about the one musical to rule them all LES MISERABLES and the other one PHANTOM and the other one WICKED and now let's shriek like agoraphobic lobsters". 
   DON'T GET ME WRONG. it's not that I don't have those moments (except the fantasy one. I don't really enjoy fantasy.) (okay, and I don't really love period dramas; some, but I've only seen a few.) (...I guess that leaves... one... category. awkward). it's that I like to discuss things, and as great as this blog has been for airing my opinions, it's hard to have a one-way discussion. 

I'll just admit it. I was hoping to stumble across/get stumbled upon by someone who liked the same things I do, and we'd connect. like, you like dickens, I like dickens, shall we discuss the character development of dora spenlow while quoting our favorite lawyer eugene wrayburn? but that hasn't happened.

and the upshot of all this long-windedness is... I'm lonely. 
   loneliness does not lend itself to dynamic writing. if my posts are falling a little flat, I'm sorry. I don't feel carbonated any more. ...when your stupid jokes are so stupid they're just stupid, that's when you stop. I'm stopping.

I'll be back ...probably... when I'm feeling a little less cranky. bah humbug.   

:: now I only know I am, that's all ::

poetry has just fit my mood lately. this past year has been challenging in so many ways: important deadlines, relationship issues, growth in grace, cloudy ideas about the future. I end up awake late, staring out the window feeling a little nostalgic (I get wistful when it's midnight), wishing life could slow down so that I could work through this stuff without feeling rushed, and wistfulness lends itself spectacularly to many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, soooo... of course my answer to this is to stay up later. especially with work in the morning.
   but read I do, and then beautiful lines echo in my head all day. lines I can't quote, because they won't fit, they sound pretentious, and no one else would get them. "in the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love... I'm sorry, what were you saying?" that sort of compounds my feelings, which prompts up-late-staying the next night; and so it goes.
   
   I want a break from My Life As Of Now. I want to enjoy the holidays without any responsibility; without the knowledge of a february deadline for a portfolio that I technically haven't started yet and dread compiling, without the scholarship needs when I don't know what to do and am not sure even how to go about doing it. 

there you go. my stress in a nutshell. time holds me green and dying.

poetry has just been a good escape; death and loss and broken hearts are just soothing to my wounded soul, I suppose. "april again in avrillé, and the brown lark in air; and you and I a world apart who walked together there..."  
   I know, it all sounds petty and pathetic when I write it out. I need to hit myself upside the head and think through this clearly. honestly, what's the worst that would happen if I didn't get this portfolio submitted? well, february 15th is the priority deadline. my stuff would still get looked at, at some point. let's say I suck; and they write me a mean letter telling me to flush my artwork and materials down the toilet because I'm obviously cut out for a toothpaste-capping job at some podunk factory.
   that would mean I either go somewhere else, less selective, for a BFA, or I drop the idea of being an artist. I'm sure I have other... talents... somewhere around here.... I mean, I at least have other interests, and I'm sure I could find something to do in college. really, really super-worst comes to worst, I take another year off figuring out what I want to do (but ugh, that sounds so awful. I don't think it could ever come to that). 
   
things really aren't that bad. I have a fantastic job, long-term plans and dreams, a great family, and a new 1d album to enjoy. not to mention plans to eat waffles (!!!) and watch fiddler on the roof next day off (did I mention I have today off? I do. it's been great). 
   sorry for the sorting-out complainy-fest. a year from now I'll look back and laugh at myself for being so worried about nothing.
   ...and then probably go back to stressing out about the finals I have coming up, or something. isn't life just like that.

:: end of the golden words ::

Over the land there lies a long shadow,

westward reaching wings of darkness.

The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings

doom approaches. The Dead awaken;

for the hour is come for the oath breakers:

at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again

and hear there a horn in the hills ringing.

Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them

from the grey twilight, the forgotten people?

The heir of him to whom the oath they swore.

From the North he shall come, need shall drive him:

he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.

I know I said I didn't like free verse. yeah, well, there's an exception to every rule (...except this one. har har. couldn't help it). I need to stop trying to analyze why I like things -- it's so hard to put it into words, I can't put it into words correctly anyway, and it sort of spoils the thing for me since I generally like it because it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

   there, I admitted my motivation for most things. warm fuzzies. woot. 

   besides, what if you get a kick out of good poetry not because of warm fuzzies, but because you like practicing the goose-step to its meter? ("the assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold...") or what if you need lyrics to rap? (can I give you a suggestion? try taylor swift's "love story". rapper's delight, no joke, and I like hot butter on my breakfast toast.) this is really not for you, in those cases.

   I guess, then, this is pretty exclusively for me, which means I will ramble unintelligibly. you're basically listening to me talking to myself. 

   if you don't mind eavesdropping...

   

  a lot of the poems in return of the king are free verse, but they're fierce and determined. I can see aragorn saying them with an "it is not this day!" look on his face. ...or éomer, if it's éomer. :T

Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising

I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.

To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:

Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!

it's a strong man's lament for his sister. I want to cry for the sweetness. it's as good as pippin's "steward of gondor" song, if you can believe that. (and I love pippin.)

   then comes legolas, thinking of the cry of gulls, and again we know the fellowship will be broken one day -- not just parted.

Silver flow the streams from Celos to Erui

In the green fields of Lebennin!

Tall grows the grass there. In the wind from the Sea

The white lilies sway,

And the golden bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin

In the green fields of Lebennin,

In the wind from the Sea!

"And then softly, to his own surprise, there at the vain end of his long journey and his grief, moved by what thought in his heart he could not tell, Sam began to sing." 

   how sweet.

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 beeches 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 forever dwell:

I will not say the Day is done,

nor bid the Stars farewell.

the songs are a contrast, themselves. they not only speak of contrasts, but they often come at dark times when singing seems out of place. I love how tolkien blends them into the narrative pretty seamlessly. 

   to note it for a moment, the narrative rises to its climax soon after sam's song. they make it to mount doom; gollum does indeed have one last part in the story; frodo and sam wonder what stories will be told that they will miss, now that they're here "at the end of all things"; and that is how gwaihir finds them. 

   the fellowship is reunited. the fellowship is broken. cue "into the west". 

"'To the Sea! To the Sea! The white gulls are crying,

The wind is blowing, and the white foam flying.

West, west away, the round sun is falling.

Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,

The voices of my people that have gone before me?

I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;

For our days are ending and our years failing.

I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.

Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,

Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,

In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,

Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!'

And so singing Legolas went away down the hill."

   

   in honor of tolkien, I read the story that originated the "west of the moon, east of the sun" phrase. I love how it rings with the feeling of farewell, the idea that 'where I am going, you cannot come' -- a parting that is such sweet sorrow I can't stop reading it... and the "road goes ever on and on" motif is a beautiful one.

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate;

And though I oft have passed them by

A day will come at last when I

Shall take the hidden paths that run

West of the Moon, East of the Sun.  

and the series ends. 

The road goes ever on and on

Out from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

Let others follow it who can!

"Then Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all Sam, and went aboard; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth; and the light of the glass of Galadriel that Frodo bore glimmered and was lost. And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise."

- - -

I guess that sort of turned out of an "LOTR poetry discussion" into a "ramble about LOTR everything".

   oh well. staying on topic isn't why I started this blog. I wanted to think more about literature, and this definitely helped me think. 

   I would suggest, though, if you want to think: don't read this, go write your own thoughts. it's quite a wonderful experience. :)

:: more words of gold ::

*I must pause in this lovely re-reading of tolkien's poetry to say that this post will be extremely overshadowed by some personal sorrow of mine: jacoby ellsbury has gone to the dark side. we now mourn him; and this will absolutely affect me for quite some time. thank you for understanding.*

the songs throughout lord of the rings have an added layer of sadness because most of them are laments.
   I've only just realized this. but if you think about it -- if 95% of the poems are sad, the others will feel sad since they're written in the same style (although the meter and message vary greatly: another amazing tolkien talent).
  let's think about sad things for a while.

'Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought.

His cloven shield, his broken sword, they to the water brought.

His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest;

And Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its breast.'

'O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze

To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days.'

(just like boromir, ELLS IS DEAD TO ME. I know my sister will be singing a lament over him, herself. she's in literal tears right now. darn you, jacoby, making my sister cry!!!) 

   aragorn's songs are the best. read this poem out loud in your head (you know what I mean?). the meter is odd -- definitely not a standard meter -- but it is so compelling.

Gondor! Gondor, between the Mountains and the Sea!

West Wind blew there; the light upon the Silver Tree

Fell like bright rain in gardens of the Kings of old.

O proud walls! White towers! O wingéd crown and throne of gold!

O Gondor, Gondor! Shall Men behold the Silver Tree,

Or West Wind blow again between the Mountains and the Sea?

I will skip several of the next passages, since I'm not a fan of free verse, even if it's tolkien speaking through treebeard. ents forever; "pip and merry hug trees" and so do I, and all that, but I'm not an entwife, so I'll skip that section. "to isengard with doom we come!"

   

   "'Healing I found, and I was clothed in white. Counsel I gave and counsel took. Thence by strange roads I come, and messages I bring to some of you. ...

"But dark is the path appointed for thee:

The Dead watch the road that leads to the Sea."

...

"Legolas Greenleaf long under tree

in joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea!

If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,

Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more."'"

what can I say? the foreshadowing says it all. it's heart-rending how the happiest part of LOTR is the first few chapters, and then it all goes downhill. (like how that stupid guy was awesome in the postseason and then he "had" to go to the evil empire because they offered him a huge contract and he's a horrible person and worse than youk!!! oh I hate them both! jacoby ellsbury, you SUCK!!!!)

The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.

Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,

Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

the whole story has a finality about it: each occurrence seems to mark the ending of something, something that can't be recovered. boromir will never live again; frodo will never be the same. any sweetness and any hope still has a taste of that finality.

 Tall ships and tall kings

Three times three,

What brought they from the foundered land

Over the flowing sea?

Seven stars and seven stones 

And one white tree.

a hopeful prophecy, perhaps -- but trees grow old eventually. even elves do not live forever.

:: of words of gold ::

I used to get really irritated when I was reading a book and the characters would quote something and it would

                                                                                   appear

italicized, centered -- like these lines are here.

it drove me nuts. usually I didn't know what the quotation was even from, so it made me feel dumb on top of that. 

   my annoyance with inserted poetry changed when I read lord of the rings. (maybe I should say I found an exception to the rule.) I fell in love with tolkien's poetry; it's so wonderful I sometimes flip through the book just reading the songs, and, hokey though it may be, I really do enjoy the musical because THEY QUOTE THE BOOK and I can't resist it when people do their research.

   um, I didn't mean to quote lbd again. sorry.

today I want to just wallow in amazing meter and beautiful words for a little while; though there's so much poetry here that "today" is about to mean "tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow," which I trust will not creep in its petty pace from day to day, since this is poetry we're discussing.
   ah, the joys of participation! 

read it. seriously. 

- - -

some of the only poetry I've discovered that I can just slip into is what tolkien included in lord of the rings. you don't have to be in the 'right mood', you can just start reading. his words are like music; further, he conveys the idea of a tune without it. take the elvish songs: they are delicate, clear, otherworldly, but they are only in verse. the tune you feel? it's just words. 

O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!

We still remember, we who dwell

   in this far land beneath the trees,

Thy starlight on the Western Seas.

the marching songs ("we must away! we must away! we ride before the break of day!") and the nonsense songs ("O! water hot is a noble thing!") and the sweet pondering songs ("and whither then? I cannot say") all add to the feel of the moment. perhaps it's tolkien's constant use of contrast that makes his LOTR poetry so moving: open and closed, hot and cold, dark and light. 

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....

but then again, he has nonsense verses quite devoid of meaning, and they're great. I do sometimes wonder if (for example) the bombadil chapters were just for the poetry. because honestly, do those two/three chapters add much to the story but amazingly-metered verse? mmmno.

   speaking of amazing meter, though: the martial, strong-beat verses are fantastic, stirring and exciting (think of the "do you hear the people sing" drumbeat). ...but somehow they're always bittersweet. 

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.

His sword was long, his lance was keen,

his shining helm afar was seen;

the countless stars of heaven's field

were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away,

and where he dwelleth none can say;

for into darkness fell his star

in Mordor where the shadows are.

many of the poems in the series are sad -- "as are all the tales of middle-earth" -- but they are all the more beautiful for that sadness; his mini-epic poems are breathtaking.

Long was the way that fate them bore,

O'er stony mountains cold and grey,

Through walls of iron and darkling door,

And woods of nightshade morrowless.

The Sundering Seas between them lay,

And yet at last they met once more,

And long ago they passed away

In the forest singing sorrowless.

the tale of beren and tinúviel is one of my favorites; but also the "flammifer of westernesse". there's just a wildness about it -- flowing lines, the alliteration -- that I love. 

    one thing that strikes me about tolkien's poetry is his ability to capture a sweetness and a sadness: almost melancholy, a nostalgia, perhaps, which transforms ordinary, relatable things into something slightly elevated and slightly magical -- and we go right along with it. we live that journey with the fellowship, and feel all the more noble and courageous for it! and it becomes so much harder to let go when the time comes.

I sit beside the fire and think 

of how the world will be

when winter comes without a spring

that I shall ever 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 who will see a world

that I shall never know.

the use of language to convey an atmosphere is an ability all great poets have. dare I say it's one that distinguishes the great from the mediocre? compare the words and cadence of the elf-songs to the dwarf-chants. the heavy echo of the words are like the stones the dwarves themselves hewed. 

The world is grey, the mountains old,

The forge's fire is ashen-cold;

No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:

The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;

The shadow lies upon his tomb

In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.

...versus:

When dawn came dim the land was lost,

The mountains sinking grey

Beyond the heaving waves that tossed

Their plumes of blinding spray.

there are a few smatterings of verse that I've left out, but this has been almost all of the poems in book one. the last one (that's not in elvish) is galadriel's song as the fellowship is preparing to leave lothlorien. the musical's song "wonder" draws quite a few lines from the book, and mostly from this song. both are beautiful.

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:

Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.

Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,

And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.

Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,

In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.

There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,

While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.

O Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;

The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.

O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore

And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.

But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,

What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?