When dark was night and cold was watch
And time was told by thumbing notch
For times to say an ancient lay
I long´d for breakfast, sleep and such.
´Gainst prowling orc and Easterling
We took the Breehill ´neath our wing:
But oh! I long for morrowsong,
When true men like the ainur sing.
To keep the peaceful multitude
From Sauron´s loathsome servitude
We have to watch and thumb the notch
Though chill of night may damp our mood.
But morrowdim is breaking there!
And birds are singing ev´rywhere!
The silent hush by warbling thrush
Was sweetly broken, swift and fair!
The sun is rising, gold and red!
- For joy of larks the dark hath fled! -
Though cold is yet and dewy wet
I love to see the light it shed!
But better yet is morrowsong,
Since then the ainur with us throng
The throne of Heaven ´bove the seven
Stars that make a journey long.