Bilbo's Song

I sit beside the fire and think
 of all that I have seen,
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
 in summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
 in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun
 and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think
 of how the world will be
when winter comes without a spring
 that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things
 that I have never seen:
in every wood in every spring
 there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think
 of people long ago,
and people who will see a world
 that I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think
 of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
 and voices at the door.