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Answer
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And Elven-maid there was of old,
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A shining star by day:
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Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
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Her shoes of silver-grey.
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A star was bound upon her brows,
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A light was on her hair
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As sun upon the golden boughs
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In Lorien the fair.
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Her hair was long, her limbs were white,
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And fair she was and free;
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And in the wind she went as light
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As leaf of linden-tree.
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Beside the falls of Nimrodel,
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By water clear and cool,
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Her voice as falling silver fell
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Into the shining pool.
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Where now she wanders none can tell,
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In sunlight or in shade;
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For lost of yore was Nimrodel
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And in the mountains strayed.
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The elven-ship in haven grey
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Beneath the mountain-lee
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Awaited her for many a day
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Beside the roaring sea.
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A wind by night in Northern lands,
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Arose, and loud it cried,
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And drove the ship from elven-strands
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Across the streaming tide.
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When dawn came dim the land was lost
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The mountains sinking grey
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Beyond the heaving waves that tossed
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Their plumes of blinding spray.
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Amroth beheld the fading shore,
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Now low beyond the swell,
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And cursed the faithless ship that bore
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Him far from Nimrodel.
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Of old he was an Elven-king,
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A lord of tree and glen,
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When golden were the boughs in spring
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In fair Lothlorien.
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From helm to sea they saw him leap,
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As arrow from the string,
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And dive into the water deep,
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As mew upon the wing.
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The wind was in his flowing hair,
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The foam about him shone;
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Afar they saw him strong and fair
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Go riding like a swan.
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But from the West has come no word,
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And on the Hither Shore
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No tidings Elven-folk have heard
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Of Amroth evermore.
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