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written_leavesHi-ho-derry-o Shakespearey-o!"
Tom Bombadil: Conundrum and a Constant Heart
(based on Shakespeare's Sonnet LIII)
What is your substance, whereof do you hail,
That millions of strange stories on you hinge?
Since every one hath, every one, one's tale,
And you but one, yet every story lend.
Describe conundrums, and the counterfeits
Are poorly imitated after you;
Goldberry's eyes are on your feather set,
And you in yellow boots bright, always new.
Speak of the spring, and music of the ear;
For they doth flower when your song appears,
And you in every blessed age will hear.
For in this woodland grace you have some part,
And you like none, none you, for constant heart.
--
Sonnet for Goldberry
(based on Shakespeare's Sonnet LXV)
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But his mastership o'ersways their power,
How with this man shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is not stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer's honey-breath hold out
Against the silver rain of lily-clad days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong as her soft sways?
O joyous meditation! where, alack!
Shall Tom's best jewel from Tom's chest lie hid?
For what strong hand could hold his great heart back?
Or who this gathering of beauty forbid?
O none; this gives the miracle its might:
That in lilies his love may still shine bright.
Tom Bombadil: Conundrum and a Constant Heart
(based on Shakespeare's Sonnet LIII)
What is your substance, whereof do you hail,
That millions of strange stories on you hinge?
Since every one hath, every one, one's tale,
And you but one, yet every story lend.
Describe conundrums, and the counterfeits
Are poorly imitated after you;
Goldberry's eyes are on your feather set,
And you in yellow boots bright, always new.
Speak of the spring, and music of the ear;
For they doth flower when your song appears,
And you in every blessed age will hear.
For in this woodland grace you have some part,
And you like none, none you, for constant heart.
--
Sonnet for Goldberry
(based on Shakespeare's Sonnet LXV)
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But his mastership o'ersways their power,
How with this man shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is not stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer's honey-breath hold out
Against the silver rain of lily-clad days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong as her soft sways?
O joyous meditation! where, alack!
Shall Tom's best jewel from Tom's chest lie hid?
For what strong hand could hold his great heart back?
Or who this gathering of beauty forbid?
O none; this gives the miracle its might:
That in lilies his love may still shine bright.