The world was young, the mountains green
No stain yet on the Moon was seen
No words were laid on stream or stoneWhen Durin woke and walked alone
He named the nameless hills and dells
He drank from yet untasted wells
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere
And saw a crown of stars appear
As gems upon a silver thread
Above the shadow of his head
The world is grey, the mountains old
The forge′s fire is ashen-cold
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere
There lies his crown in water deep
Til′ Durin wakes again from sleep
