In the willow-meads of tasarinan, i walked in the spring.
ah! the sight and the smell of the spring in nantasarion!
and i said that was good.
i wandered in summer in the elm-woods of ossiriand.
ah! the light and the music in the summer by the seven rivers of ossir!
and i thought that was best.
to the beeches of neldoreth i came in the autumn.
ah! the gold and the red and the sighing of leaves in the autumn in taurnaneldor!
it was more than my desire.
to the pine-trees upon the highland of dorthonion i climbed in the winter.
ah! the wind and the whiteness and the black branches of winter upon orodna-thôn!
my voice went up and sang in the sky.
and now all those lands lie under the wave,
and i walk in ambarona, in tauremorna, in aldalómë,
in my own land, in the country of fangorn,
where the roots are long,
and the years lie thicker than the leaves