HAPPY the stark bare wood on the hill of Bree!
To its grey branch, green the May: song after sigh:
Laughter of wings where the went with a cry
My sorrow! Song after sigh comes not to me.

Happy the dry wide pastures by
To them, in the speckled twiligh, dew after drouth:
White clover, a fragrance in the dumb beast's mouth.
My sorrow! Dew after drouth comes not to me.

Happy Oilean Acla in the sea!
To its yellow shore, long-billowed flood after ebb:
Flash of the fish, silver in the soak weeds' web,
My sorrow! Flood after ebb comes not to me.