The world was young, the mountains green

No stain yet on the moon was seen

No words were laid on stream or stone

When Durin woke and walked alone

He named the nameless hills and dells

He drank from yet untasted wells

He stooped and looked in Mirrormere

And saw a crown of stars appear

As gems upon a silver thread

Above the shadow of his head

A king there was, enthroned in grey

In great halls of colonnades

With roof of gold and darkened floor

And mighty runes along the door

The brightest light of moon and star

In crystal lamps shined through the door

Unshadowed by the light of night

They bear and deterred a shimmering light

The skies are bleak, the hills are age

The forges' flames have died away

No songs are sung, no blade is cast,

In Durin's halls they ever last.

The darkness hangs over his tomb

Beneath the mountain in the gloom

But e'er the fallen stars glow free

In cold and breathless mirror near

The rest his crown in water clear

Till Durin returns once more from sleep.