the idle singer

"Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing,  
I cannot ease the burden of your fears,
Or make quick-coming death a little thing,
Or bring again the pleasure of past years,
Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears,
Or hope again for aught that I can say,
The idle singer of an empty day.
Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time,  
Why should I strive to set the crooked straight?
Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme
Beats with light wing against the ivory gate,
Telling a tale not too importunate
To those who in the sleepy region stay,
Lulled by the singer of an empty day."

by William Morris

Walk to Rivendell:  On this 14th day, we’ve traveled 12 miles, for a total of 241 since we left Bag End.

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