An Elven-maid there was of old
A shining star by day
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold
Her shoes of silver-grey

A star was bound upon her brows
A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lórien the fair

Her hair was long, her limbs were white
And fair she was and free
And in the wind she went as light
As leaf of linden-tree

Beside the falls of Nimrodel
By water clear and cool
Her voice as falling silver fell
Into the shining pool

Where now she wanders none can tell
In sunlight or in shade
For lost of yore was Nimrodel
And in the mountains strayed

The elven-ship in haven grey
Beneath the mountain-lee
Awaited her for many a day
Beside the roaring sea
A wind by night in Northern lands
Arose, and loud it cried
And drove the ship from elven-strands
Across the streaming tide

When dawn came dim the land was lost
The mountains sinking grey
Beyond the heaving waves that tossed
Their plumes of blinding spray

Amroth beheld the fading shore
Now low beyond the swell
And cursed the faithless ship that bore
Him far from Nimrodel

Of old he was an Elven-king
A lord of tree and glen
When golden were the boughs in spring
In fair Lothlórien

From helm to sea they saw him leap
As arrow from the string
And dive into the water deep
As mew upon the wing

The wind was in his flowing hair
The foam about him shone
Afar they saw him strong and fair
Go riding like a swan
But from the West has come no word
And on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth evermore

But from the West has come no word
And on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth evermore