Board Thread:General Mod Discussion/@comment-27860585-20160227122451/@comment-25101690-20160429233334

Poem time? Lemme join!

When the Moon was new and the Sun young, Of silver and gold the Gods sung. In the green grass they silver spilled And the white waters they with gold filled. Ere pit was dug or hell yawned, Ere dwarf was bred or dragon spawned, There were elves of old, and strong spells Under green hills in hollow dells. They sang as they wrought many fair things And the bright crowns of the Elf-Kings. But their doom fell, and their song wained, By iron hewn and by steel chained. Greed that sang not, nor with mouth smiled, In dark holes their wealth piled, Graven silver and carven gold, Over Elven-Home the shadow rolled.

There was an old dwarf in a dark cave. To silver and gold his fingers crave. With hammer and tongs, and anvil-stone, He worked his hands to the hard bone. And coins he made, and strings of rings. He thought to buy the power of kings! But his eyes grew dim, and his ears dull, And the skin yellow on his old skull. Through his bony claws with a pale sheen, Countless jewels slipped unseen. No feet he heard though the earth quaked When the young dragon his thirst slaked. The stream smoked at his dark door, Flames hissed over the dank floor. The dwarf died alone in the red fire, His bones were ashes in the hot mire.

(3 more verses follow, but I forgot them)