The Province of Elves


It is the province of interminable millieu
born stoic by Elves, that remain fair in sad, long years.
Poisons of millennia pain millennia
of the immortals still ever grieving silent
for love, vexation, and for the darkening skies
the last light in which is theirs. Last light in the world,
their allies are dust, and Dwarf works turned to rust
And men with their wens torn apart, struck by their fears
born of grief for their lives unguarded by their lords.
When all these are passed, when ends the descent
It will fall to Elves to lay where all should lie.
And as our friends with their fathers are interred
our enemies confined to annals and thought
we shall join together and watch the stars go out.

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