Into the West

When I am buried, and the knell

Is rung beyond my need,

And soul departs to bliss, or hell,

Then play upon the reed,

Whose toll is love, deep dyed with grief,

For joy that cannot stay,

And innocence, whose time is brief,

Beneath the wheeling day.

And may the fair tin flute resound

To ease the willing tear,

If aught are shed, and may the ground

Receive my willing bier,

For if there be no afterlife

That this the penult proves,

In death, at least, ends all our strife,

And grief that tears may move.

So let the cold of winter come,

And sing the only hymn

My heart has known beneath the sun

Till starless night goes dim.

For when the seas and mountains fall,

And comes the end of days,

In Darkness, I shall hear the call

That leads me on my way.

Beyond the veil of Middle-Earth,

Where dismal rain subsides

Upon white shores, and flowers birth

Beneath a swift sunrise,

Where elanors in endless May

Inflame the hills with gold;

In Valinor, there I will stay

Until the world grows old.