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.)