Post by Emily Bob on Aug 3, 2004 21:34:39 GMT -5
To the sea, to the sea,
The white gulls are crying.
The wind is blowing and the white foam is flying
West, west away the round sun is falling,
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling?
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I wil leave, I will leave, the wood that bore me
For our years are failing, our days ending
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves on the last shore calling
Sweet are the voices on the last isle calling.
In Eressëa in elvenhome that no man can discover.
Where the leaves fall not
Land of my people forever.
The white gulls are crying.
The wind is blowing and the white foam is flying
West, west away the round sun is falling,
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling?
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I wil leave, I will leave, the wood that bore me
For our years are failing, our days ending
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves on the last shore calling
Sweet are the voices on the last isle calling.
In Eressëa in elvenhome that no man can discover.
Where the leaves fall not
Land of my people forever.