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'O
rowan fair, upon your hair how white the blossom lay ! |
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O
rowan fair, I saw you shine upon a summer's day, |
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Your
rind so bright, your leaves so light, your voice so cool and soft : |
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Upon
your head how golden-red the crown you bore aloft ! |
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O
rowan dead, upon your head your hair is dry and grey ; |
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Your
crown is pilled, your voice is stilled for ever and a day.' |
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JRR Tolkien. |
