(İMyopia 2007)</p>

A clan, uncounted centuries...<br>
Who in elder days it's told...<br>
Sired forth my forebearers...<br>
Beneath warm rays of gold.</p>

Is now but ancient melody,<br>
beguiled by their fears...<br>
And now must sail into the west...<br>
Before it disappears.</p>

From Falkirk to Doriath's gate<br>
A memory still so strong...<br>
Of elder days and polished swords...<br>
Ere sun and moon were born at all.</p>

To Valinor with sails of wind,<br>
As rest shall soon suppose.<br>
Is buried there, in Nimloth's care,<br>
My dying elvish rose.</p>

When the Firstborn were yet younglings...<br>
And the world was bathed in dark.<br>
The princes of the Eldar rose...<br>
To the singing of a lark.</p>

Are now but foreign tale of old...<br>
In time still play their parts...<br>
And of the world I'm weary now...<br>
And through final wish I depart...</p>

From Westernesse's sunken shores...<br>
Where King Cthulthu sleeps...<br>
And stairways lead into the sea...<br>
The straight way opens up for me!</p>

When spell and wish no longer sing...<br>
And year and age are foes...<br>
In Valmar I'll return to plant...<br>
This dying elvish rose...</p>

This last farewell is so well spent...<br>
As every child knows...<br>
That every wizard's power comes...<br>
In his dying elvish rose...</p>

And as to fate I bow my head...<br>
And to the woods repose...<br>
My soul it burns, my heart it yearns<br>
For my dying elvish rose.</p>

<b><u>Comments</u></b><br>
Written by Mark Grey.</p>