My Jewels 

Oh! Sweet jewels, works of my hands

Naught is so fair in all the lands

As the brilliant light of my jewels

Gathered liquid into fair pools

Oh Silmarils!  Oh purest light!

Oh, sole object of my delight!

You burn with the fire of my soul;

Without you I would be unwhole

Your radiant beam is so sweet

Without it I am incomplete

You I will not let eyes defile

Or be touched with hands vile

Ah, sweet Silmarils!  You are mine,

And I alone shall see you shine

May you ne’er depart from my sight

And leave me in unending night

~~~

Author’s Note:  This poem is in reference to Fëanor’s love and desire for the Silmarils.  (Not Morgoth’s, as my friend assumed.)