"The adventures of Tom Bombadil" by J.R.R.Tolkien, a selection

TALES FROM THE PERILOUS REALM

FAERIE is a perilous land,and in it are pitfalls for
the unwary and dungeons for the overbold. . .The 

 realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and

filled with many things: all manner of beasts and birds
are found there; shoreless seas and stars uncounted;
beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present
peril; both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords. In that
realm a man may, perhaps, count himself fortunate to
have wandered, but its very richness and strangeness
tie the tongue of a traveller who would report them.
And while he is there it is dangerous for him to ask
too many questions, lest the gates should be shut and
the keys be lost.

THE MEWLIPS

The shadows where the Mewlips dwell

Are dark and wet as ink,

And slow and softly rings their bell,

As in the slime you sink.

You sink into the slime, who dare

To knock upon their door,

While down the grinning gargoyles stare

And noisome waters pour.

Beside the rotting river-strand

The drooping willows weep,

And gloomily the gorcrows stand

Croaking in their sleep.

Over the Merlock Mountains a long and weary way,

In a mouldy valley where the trees are grey,

By a dark pool's borders without wind or tide,

Moonless and sunless, the Mewlips hide.

The cellars where the Mewlips sit

Are deep and dank and cold

With single sickly candle lit;

And there they count their gold.

Their walls are wet, their ceilings drip;

Their feet upon the floor

Go softly with a squish-flap-flip,

As they sidle to the door.

They peep out slyly; through a crack

Their feeling fingers creep,

And when they've finished, in a sack

Your bones they take to keep.

Beyond the Merlock Mountains, a long and lonely

road,

Through the spider-shadows and the marsh of Tode,

And through the wood of hanging trees and the

gallows-weed,

You go to find the Mewlips-and the Mewlips feed.

FASTITOCALON

Louk, there is Fastitocalon!
An island good to land upon,
Although 'tis rather bare.
Come leave the sea! And let us run,
Or dance, or lie down in the sun!
See, gulls are sitting there!
Beware!
Gulls do not sink.
There they may sit, or strut and prink:
Their part it is to tip the wink,
If anyone should dare
Upon that isle to settle,
Or only for a while to get
Relief from sickness or the wet,
Or maybe boil a kettle.

Ah! foolish folk, who land on HIM,
And little fires proceed to trim
And hope perhaps for tea!
It may be that His shell is thick,
Hessems to sleep; but He is quick,
And floats now in the sea
With guile;
And when He hears their tapping feet,
Or faintly feels the sudden heat,
With smile
HE dives,
And promptly turning upside down
He tips them off, and deep they drwn,
And lose their silly lives
To their surprise.
Be wise!
There are many monsters in the Sea,
But none so perilous as HE,
Old horny Fastitocalon,
Whose mighty kindred all have gone,
The last of the old Turtle-fish.
So if to save your life you wish
Then I advise:
Pay heed to sailors' ancient lore,
Set foot on no uncharted shore!
Or better still,
Your days at peace on Middle-earth
In mirth
Fulfill!

SHADOW-BRIDE

There was a man who dwelt alone,
as day and night went past
he sat as still as carven stone,
and yet no shadow cast.
The white owls perched upon his head
beneath the winter moon;
they wiped their beaks and thought him dead
under the stars of  June.

There came a lady clad in grey
in the twilight shining:
one moment she would stand and stay,
her hair with flowers entwining.
He woke, as had he sprung of stone,
and broke the spell that bound him;
he clasped her fast, both flesh and bone,
and wrapped her shadow round him.

There never more she walks her ways
by sun, or moon, or star;
she dwells below where neither days
nor any nights there are.
But once a year when caverns yawn
and hidden things awake,
they dance together then till dawn
and a single shadow make.