Boromir the son of Denethor,
One of the sons of the Land of Gondor.
Here you now stay, here you met your death,
Here on the slopes of Amon Hen

Your people will look for you,
From the white tower.
Alas you will not come to them,
Not from the mountains or by the sea.

You came with us from Imladris,
To Lórien, down the Anduin, with us to Amon Hen.
You have walked with us over field and fen,
Over mountain and under tree,
Through the darkness of Moria and across the bridge of Kazad-Dûm

You have walked Middle-Earth for years,
You have walked in empty shadowy lands.
People have seen you Boromir, by sun, moon and starlight.
People have seen you cross over grey rivers and wild waters.

People have listened to the Horn of Gondor,
Now it shall sound no more.
Though you walked empty lands
You will walk to the rest place of the Men of Old.

The winds of the North and West shall tell of your fall,
From the mouths of the seas, the sands and stones of the South shall tell,
They shall tell of your deeds and there they will sing to you.
And from the East I cannot say, I shall not speak of it.

To Gondor, the winds shall fly,
Alas, you will not fly with them.
Your people will wait for you to come home,
Alas to you shall not come to them.

Though winds from the North, South and West will fly over you here
And we know of your fall,
We will sing to you Boromir.
We will sing to you Son of Denethor.

by Elruwen Greenleaf