4

When sky was clear and stars were keen,

then Daeron with his fingers lean,

as daylight melted into eve,

a trembling music sweet would weave

on flutes of silver, thin and clear

for Lúthien, the maiden dear.

There mirth there was and voices bright;

there eve was peace and morn was light;

there jewel gleamed and silver wan

and red gold on white fingers shone,

and elanor and niphredil

bloomed in the grass unfading still,

while the endless years of Elven-land

rolled over far Beleriand,

until a day of doom befell,

as still the elven-harpers tell.