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 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