I sit beside the fire and think, by J.R.R. Tolkien

It’s only the beginning of August, but there is a chill in the air in the mornings that awakens the wistful thoughts of fall, and this little song, sung by old Bilbo comes to mind.  It’s not just the fall of the year, but the fall of life that beckons.

beside the fire

I sit beside the fire and think

I sit beside the fire and think
of all that I have seen
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
in summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun
and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think
of how the world will be
when winter comes without a spring
that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things
that I have never seen:
in every wood in every spring
there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think
of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
and voices at the door.

J.R.R. Tolkien

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One Reply to “I sit beside the fire and think, by J.R.R. Tolkien”

  1. Reblogged this on Preindustrial Craftsmanship and commented:
    I sit beside the fire and think, by J.R.R. Tolkien

    It’s only the beginning of August, but there is a chill in the air in the mornings that awakens the wistful thoughts of fall, and this little song, sung by old Bilbo comes to mind. It’s not just the fall of the year, but the fall of life that beckons.

    beside the fire

    I sit beside the fire and think

    I sit beside the fire and think
    of all that I have seen
    of meadow-flowers and butterflies
    in summers that have been;

    Of yellow leaves and gossamer
    in autumns that there were,
    with morning mist and silver sun
    and wind upon my hair.

    I sit beside the fire and think
    of how the world will be
    when winter comes without a spring
    that I shall ever see.

    For still there are so many things
    that I have never seen:
    in every wood in every spring
    there is a different green.

    I sit beside the fire and think
    of people long ago
    and people who will see a world
    that I shall never know.

    But all the while I sit and think
    of times there were before,
    I listen for returning feet
    and voices at the door.

    J.R.R. Tolkien

    Liked by 2 people

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