"All That is Gold"
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
I would be woefully amiss if I did not mention that I count Tolkien among the best of my favorite poets. His poetry does something to me. Strikes chords of passion and emotion I didn't know were there, bids me go a'gypsing, and generally makes me sigh with an echo shaking my heart that says, "This is genius, this is beauty, this is gold." And in these moments I can't even think "I wish I could write like that" because in the face of such gold, there's no room for anything but quiet wonder.