Favorite Poem

I read an article this evening that triggered an old warm and familiar memory, that of my favorite poem. My favorite poem happens to come not from a typical hero of literary renown, but rather from the pages of Tolkein's Rings trilogy. Its context and universalism resonated with me when i first read at age 13, and continues to this day. In Tolkein's novel, Bilbo says goodbye to Frodo, whom he believes he will never see again in this lifetime. Bilbo sits beside the fire of his warm comfy room, reminiscing on the vastness and the color of his life. Then he paints an allusion of the world as it will be after he departs.



I sit beside the fire and think...

by J. R. R. Tolkien

I sit beside the fire and think
of all that I have seen,
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
In summers that 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.