Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall
Don't go where I can't follow!
I have spoken words of hope. But only of hope. Hope is not victory.
For we put the thought of all that we love into all that we make.
Alive without breath, As cold as death; Never thirsty, ever drinking, All in mail never clinking.
Yet seldom do they fail of their seed, And that will lie in the dust and rot to spring up again in times and places unlooked-for. The deeds of Men will outlast us.