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Answer
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The world was young, the mountains green,
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No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
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No words were laid on stream or stone
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When Durin woke and walked alone.
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He named the nameless hill and dells,
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He drank from yet untasted wells;
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He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
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And saw a crown of stars appear,
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As gems upon a silver thread,
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Above the shadow of his head.
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The world was fair the mountains tall,
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In Elder days before the fall
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Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
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And Gondolin, who now beyond
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The Western Seas have passed away:
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The world was fair in Durin's Day.
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A king he was on carven throne,
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In many-pillared halls of stone
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With golden roof and silver floor,
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And runes of power upon the door.
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The light of sun and star and moon
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In shining lamps of crystal hewn
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Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
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Answer
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There shone for ever fair and bright.
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There hammer on the anvil smote,
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There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
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There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
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The delver mined, the mason built.
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There beryl, pearl, and opal pale.
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And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
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Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
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And shining spears were laid in hoard.
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Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
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Beneath the mountains music woke:
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The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
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And at the gates the trumpets rang.
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The world is grey, the mountains old,
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The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
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No harp is wrung, no hammer falls;
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The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
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The shadow lies upon his tomb
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In Moria, in Khazad-dum.
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But still the sunken stars appear
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In dark and windless Mirrormere;
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There lies his crown in water deep,
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Till Durin wakes again from sleep.
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