Another Swallow harkens high.

Lo! for night is drawing nigh.
In the forest of colors pale,
Gentle lights will shine of mail.
High upon the branches thick,
Tinuviel flies through quick.

Shadows creep within the wood,
Hiding all the life that stood,
In the light that guides the way,
Never stoping, ere break of day.
Endless sleep and toils begin,
Singing songs of long lost kin.

But behold the light that shines of mail,
Rips through darkness deep and pale,
In the forest deep and dark,
Guiding the way for the sparrows' hark.
Tinuviel, rest within the bark.

Deep within the caverns cold,
Underground and under old,
Rips the light that shines of mail,
In the forest, deep and pale.
Nothing may stop the riot of,
Gentel light and darkened dove.

Near is dawn drawing nigh,
In the place where light is high,
Guiding the swallows through the dark,
Hearing all that dares to hark.
Tinuviel, now you may hark.
 
Copyright © poet_of_elves, All Rights Reserved