The rivers words in flowing throng
Pour out of her blossem mouth.
And the river daughter dances this day,
Dances and sings in merry way.
A wreath of lillies does her waist entwine,
Remembered so from the dawn of time,
Joyfully wanders the forest and the fen,
Goldberry, blue eyes and lithe feet,
Goldberry, river daughter and morning sun meet.
And if all of the tales of the forest be true,
Goldberry is ne'er mentioned,
Exists but to few,
And the sound of her song gives the hopeless their hope,
Softly creating a haven for you.