Leithian

These years are written not by gloom,
Though Malice rules and Dark is on throne.
Love won't submit and, never humbled,
Her banners rise in face of Foe.

There is still long to the outcome,
While Evil's forges smut virgin land,
And Light is lock'd up in banned Crown,
But a man has reached for it his hand,

That will embrace the maiden's waist
In hidden woods; at former days
No one has loved so hot for long.

And like a foretoken of new age,
Still brighter glowing, full of rage,
The Silmarill is flaming on.