The world was fair, 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.

The world was fair, the mountains tall
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond,
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The western seas have passed away.
The world was fair in Durin's day.

A king he was on carven throne,
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.

There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote.
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt
The delver mined, the mason built.
      G                 E
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale
    DM
And metal wrought like fishes' mail.
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spear were laid in hoard.
Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke.
    F                   C
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
    A
And at the gates the trumpets rang....

The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen-cold.
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls.
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls.
The shadows lie upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-Dum.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere
There lies his crown in waters deep
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.