“The days are cold, the nights are long,The North wind sings a doleful song;Then hush again upon my breast;All merry things are now at rest,Save thee, my pretty love!”

“Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.Down along under the Hill, shining in the sunlight,Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight,There my pretty lady is, River-woman's daughter,Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringingComes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! and merry-o,Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.Tom'sgoing hom again water lilies-bringing.Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?”

“Now cracks a noble heart. Good-night, sweet prince;And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. ”

“Were I a woman, I would all day longSing my own beauty in some holy song,Bend low before it, hushed and half afraid,And say 'I am a woman' all day long.”

“The nights were long, like the braids of a pretty girl, and the days were short, like a girl's sense. ("The North")”

“Let my heiress have full rights,Live in my house, sing songs that I composed.Yet how slowly my strength ebbs,How the tortured breast craves air.The love of my friends, my enemies' rancorAnd the yellow roses in my bushy garden,And a lover's burning tenderness—all thisI bestow upon you, messenger of dawn.Also the glory for which I was born,For which my star, like some whirlwind, soaredAnd now falls. Look, its fallingProphesies your power, love and inspiration.Preserving my generous bequest,You will live long and worthily.Thus it will be. You see, I am content,Be happy, but remember me.”