Post by Melda on Aug 17, 2005 19:55:44 GMT -5
I suppose I shall post my little lame poem...inspried whilst going over ever detail of the Minas Tirith map in the Atlas of Middle-earth! *sigh* I love that book.
Seven white levels standing proud,
The Tower of Ecthelion piercing the clouds.
Mindolluin still holding it straight,
Can you learn the knock of each white gate?
In Rath Dínen, the Silent Street
The shadows flit and fly at your feet.
The city’s pinnacle towards the Pelannor,
It’s a beauty worth fighting for!
As the wind whips through the branches of the Tree,
Gondor’s banners wave proud and free.
Down in the Hallows lie once great kings
Who sat on the Throne, and saw many things.
Even when war hits hard on the city’s white walls,
Be assured, Minas Tirith will never fall.
Never ‘till the Day’s End,
When all tall spears bend,
And city walls crumble to dust,
When once mighty swords turn to rust.
Minas Tirith, the Great City of Gondor,
May your gates never falter.
Though times hit hard,
Ever strong may be your guard.
Though clouds cover the land
Great and mighty you will stand.
Through death, misery, and pain,
Yours sight alone shall be a mighty gain.
Minas Tirith standing strong, beautiful, and high,
Your splendor will ever touch the sky.
Seven white levels standing proud,
The Tower of Ecthelion piercing the clouds.
Mindolluin still holding it straight,
Can you learn the knock of each white gate?
In Rath Dínen, the Silent Street
The shadows flit and fly at your feet.
The city’s pinnacle towards the Pelannor,
It’s a beauty worth fighting for!
As the wind whips through the branches of the Tree,
Gondor’s banners wave proud and free.
Down in the Hallows lie once great kings
Who sat on the Throne, and saw many things.
Even when war hits hard on the city’s white walls,
Be assured, Minas Tirith will never fall.
Never ‘till the Day’s End,
When all tall spears bend,
And city walls crumble to dust,
When once mighty swords turn to rust.
Minas Tirith, the Great City of Gondor,
May your gates never falter.
Though times hit hard,
Ever strong may be your guard.
Though clouds cover the land
Great and mighty you will stand.
Through death, misery, and pain,
Yours sight alone shall be a mighty gain.
Minas Tirith standing strong, beautiful, and high,
Your splendor will ever touch the sky.
!
