Oh! Fair Lady of the West,
Who refused the One and passed the test,
And returned again the Valinor,
Abandoning the Hither Shore.
Her skin, pale and radient as the Moon,
And hair, as golden Sun in afternoon
That captured the light of Telperion,
A hallowed flame that now has gone.
Her lucid eyes, so piercing blue,
Glittered like the morning dew.
Her penetrating stare, few could endure,
For she could see if your heart was pure.
They had witnessed countless years,
Laughter, war, wisdom, tears.
Oldest of the Elves was she,
And her’s was Nenya of the Three.
At last she had to bid farewell
To Lothlorien ans its asphodell,
To white elenor and tall mallorn tree,
To all it was, and now, never could be.
She nelt against a trunk and cried
Because all that she saw would wither, and die,
That everything was all in vain,
Her tears fell from her eyes like rain.
Nenya’s power was doomed to fade
And with it did the golden glade,
But the Lady could not stay,
And left it till the End of Days.
Then the white swan-ship, it came
To bear the Elven queen away,
To sail into the Utter West,
And land upon its shores, most blessed.
She watched as Middle Earth sunk away,
“My heart, my home, ten’oio wanwa, namaarie!”
And never again was ever seen
The face of Galadriel, proud Elven queen.