Und hier noch ein Gedicht fuer den Wolkensteiner,
weil er die doch so gerne mag!
O fading town upon a little hill,
Old memory is waning in thine ancient gates,
The robe gone gray, thine old heart almost still;
The castle only, frowning, ever waits
And ponders how among the towering elms
The Gliding Water leaves this inland realms
And slips between long meadows to the western sea -
Still bearing downward over murmurous falls
One year and then another to the sea;
And slowly thither have a many gone
Since first the fairies built Kortirion
das Nagetierchen 
