J.R.R. Tolkien

I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen

of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were,

with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be

when winter comes without a spring that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things that I have never seen:

in every wood and every spring there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago

and people who will see a world that I will never know.

But all all the while I sit and think of times there were before,

I listen for returning feet and voices at the door.