Haldir o Lorien, your spirit is flown,
No more will you hear the soft sounds of falling rain,
No more breath the leaf scented air of Lothlorien,
Nor step upon the mossy elven-paths.
Softly will fall the faded golden leaves,
Wilted in mourning for thee,
Sofly will fade the summer sun,
Through a lacework of mallorn branches.
No more will you see spring,
No more hear the nightingale sing,
When the moonlight upon water glimmers,
They are like mem’ries of starlight shimmers,
In your now sorrow dimmed eyes.
When summer comes and goes,
When the light dims and flows,
A memory of you lingers in the trees,
With a little sigh of mallorn leaves.