The Eyes of Boromir – My Heart’s Owned by Boromir

by Dec 28, 2002Poetry

Always in my heart…

The Eyes of Boromir

I am a simple village girl, my home, to Gondor near,
And in the third age, thirty-nineteen, late that very year,
There came a soldier through our town,
My heart’s bane, I do fear,
He was the Tower Captain, and his name was Boromir.

He came into the village inn to slake his thirst with beer,
And I was but a serving-wench, a poor lass I do fear,
I brought his ale to slake his thirst, and met my doom, I fear,
For when he looked into my eyes, I fell for Boromir.

O Boromir, O Boromir, can your bright eyes not see?
Though I am but a serving-wench, you’re everything to me,
And I cannot forget him, and my soul counts every tear,
I know his heart’s not mine, but my heart’s owned by Boromir.

His face, so fair, his eyes, so bright, his smell as I drew near,
It was the smell of leather and of rain and air so clear,
His hands were rough, his face, it showed care far beyond his year,
And I could drown just looking in the eyes of Boromir.

Soon he was gone a-wandering, by mountain and by mere,
More than a hundred days, they say, he wandered far from here,
The Dark Time, it was coming, and our hearts did quail with fear,
And all our hope for life and limb did lay with Boromir.

O Boromir, O Boromir, can your bright eyes not see?
Though I am but a serving-wench, you’re everything to me,
And I cannot forget him, and my soul counts every tear,
I know his heart’s not mine, but my heart’s owned by Boromir.

T’was on the river Anduin, at Parth Galen, I hear,
That Evil came to tempt the soul , his brave heart to draw near,
Then mustering his Noble soul as his bane came to bear,
All filled with black orc arrows was the heart of Boromir.

His brave heart filled with arrows, my own with sorrow dear,
I wander now around the walls of Gondor white and fair,
And in the golden sunlight, I can scarce believe my ear,
The Great Horn of that city, sounded by my Boromir.

O Boromir, O Boromir, your bright eyes no more see?
Though I am but a serving-wench, you’re everything to me,
And I cannot forget him, and my soul counts every tear,
I know his heart’s not mine, but my heart’s owned by Boromir

And now I’ve made my sojourn, my destination, near,
I lay me down by Anduin, and dry my last sad tear,
I leap into the waters, for I must to him be near,
I go to join my darling one, beautiful Boromir.

O Boromir, O Boromir, your bright eyes no more see?
Though I am but a serving-wench, you’re everything to me,
And I cannot forget him, and my soul counts every tear,
I know his heart’s not mine, but my heart’s owned by Boromir.

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