I sit beside the fire and think

Of all that I have seen,

Of meadow-flowers and butterflies

In summers there have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer

In autumns that there were,

With morning mist and silver sun

And wind upon my hair.

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.

But all the while I sit and think

Of times there were before

I listen for returning feet

And voices at the door.

This was always my favorite poem from The Lord of the Rings. =P