A lament for re-birth - Eowyn watching the War of the Ring from the Houses of Healing.

How may my life be over,
How all my tears in vain,
Yet the sword and the shield hath broken
And fire becomes the rain.

The men of this land are dying,
And cloud covers all blue sky,
My part is played and I am broken,
And still Nazgul screech on high.

The hopes that were my freedom,
They are as they were left,
And yet my hear is torn apart;
A wound, a chasam, cleft.

Alas that solitude should be my need
And day hath failed to rise,
Such werriness berobes my light,
As pure blood on heathland lies.

What ship shall carry me from this?
What truth was there ever in love,
And arrows slay the mighty:
Long live the carrion dove.

How all of the world is ending,
Our downfall was our light,
A Ring in the hand of a halfling;
Should this folly become this night?

And how did the elven wisdom
Not percieve this gain?
The ones whoes aid created
This thing to cause such pain?

Sorrow holds my heart in motion,
I can not die nor live,
I survived my battle,
Yet I have no more to give.

And why should patience help me,
As rubble's tower falls,
Is nowhere safe in this land now,
Is this the fate that calls?

And all the horsemen rode forth,
How many died this day?
Years pass, crops grow, and widows weep,
To them what shall thee say.

And hour spans an age now,
Waiting for news alone,
And still I'm lost in winters frost;
This land is not my home.

And I remember honour,
A virtue and a dream,
The reason for all hardships,
Why sorrows tears stream.

How may my life be over,
How all my tears in vain,
For the sword and the shield shall hold now,
And fire become smoke in the rain.

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