Standing on tiptoe in the morning mist
I saw thy flame rise in glory with the sun
The wind streaked thy hair into spires of pale gold
The light in thy eyes was fell and beautiful

Lo! thy flame then leaped towards me
Thy bright footsteps danced beside mine
Our hands met in the deepening dark
The joy of thy light was sweeter than heart’s desire

When swords and shields called thee away
Darkness came and filled every corner
Yet then a wondrous light would pierce the gloom
As my heart rejoiced at thy noble return

Standing on tiptoe in the morning mist
I saw thy flame faint through the shimmer of mail
But thy light touched me not as before
In vain my hand reached for thee in the dark

O Aikanar!* my love and my light
Why did thy flame leap away that day?
But alas, I would never have burdened thee
Thou wert too fair and bright for my frail mortality

THE END

*Aikanar = “fell fire” (Quenya)