The world was young, the mountains green

No stain yet on the Moon was seen

No words were laid on stream or stoneWhen 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 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 shadow lies upon his tomb

In Moria, in Khazad-dûm

But still the sunken stars appear

In dark and windless Mirrormere

There lies his crown in water deep

Til′ Durin wakes again from sleep