Dweller of the wood,
thou art the son of kings.
The thought of your smile
bears my heart up on wings.

I wish I could stand near
and whisper my devotion
in your keen elven-ear

Yet you know me not,
and I cannot go to thee.
My call goes unanswered
as you stand ‘neath a tree.
Alas! I do not have a claim
I and other maidens
who see thee and weep.
Our hearts desire in vain.

For, with our hearts in hand
you walk through a world
in which we cannot stand.

But, Legolas of Mirkwood
fair elf with high brow,
you know not of our love,
yet a great following hast thou!

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