More Than Enough – A Song on Sam’s Love and Frodo’s Gift

by Apr 25, 2003Poetry

The knees of your breeches stained as green
As the Master’s round front door.
Strong fingers curled into the soil,
Coaxing fruit and flowers forth.
Your heart, so vast, belongs to that earth;
Your head’s up in the clouds
Dreaming dreams that your Gaffer warns
A Gamgee’s not allowed.

And it’s enough
To sit at Bilbo’s side and learn a quill to hold.
It’s enough
Just to be at hand when wondrous tales get told.
Misty Mountains, Elves of Mirkwood,
Wizards and heaps of Dragon Gold…
Oh, glory! More than enough!

Young Master arrived from Buckland and
Cruel gossip trailed behind.
That orphan child, too thin, too odd,
Too many books distracting his mind.
You thought them daft. How could they not see
The depths in those blue eyes?
His spirit shining so silver bright,
Compassionate and wise?

And it’s enough
To see him smile at the blooms you lovingly tend.
It’s enough
To smoke a pipe together on the hill above Bag End.
He helps you read, he names each star for you;
A rare and treasured friend.
Oh, glory! More than enough.

The pages turn; they can’t be stopped.
The dreaded Shadow falls.
On slender shoulders Burden’s dropped.
Grim destiny –it calls.

Let it be enough!
Strength and Faith and Trust that never flag or fail.
A gentle touch
When soulful eyes go blank or face too deathly pale.
Shire incarnate, you remind him
Why he must prevail…
Oh, mercy! Let it be enough!

You steadied him when he stumbled,
Guarded while he slept,
Cradled straying fingers,
Comforted when he wept.
Sweet broken angel, you carried him
To fiery fate above,
Your bloody footprints a testament
To Courage and to Love.

Enough to see the Quest fulfilled,
Redeem the world, the Shire.
But what of healing ravaged Soul?
Your heart’s most fierce desire.

It’s not enough,
Sunlit garden, hearth and wholesome hobbit fare,
A gentle touch,
Deep devotion, all your sacrifice and care.
Argent flame near quenched, it gutters–
In this world beyond repair.
Lady, save us! It’s not enough!

Ailing soul a-shiver,
He bends o’er parchment white.
A sacred promise keeping,
Resists rapacious blight.
Sweet dying angel, he’d spare you now
The grief in those gray eyes.
He’ll take the Ship ‘cross the Sund’ring Sea
To where your last hope lies.

Hope will be enough!
A dream of Lands Undying where his spirit kindles anew…
You’ll ne’er forget
Nor scorn his gift; he wanted Joy for you.
Pouring all you are into earth and family
You’ll love your whole life through.
His last blessing, Hope will be enough!
Till you meet again…
More than enough.


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