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 stopped and looked in Mirrormere
And saw a crown of stars appear
As gems upon a silver thread
Above the shadow of his head

A king there was, enthroned in grey
In great halls of colonnades
With roof of gold and argent floor
And mighty runes along the door

The brightest light of moon and star
In crystal lamps shines through the dark
Unshadowed by the veil of night
They burned eternal, shimmering white

The skies are bleak, the hills are age
The forges' flames have died away
No songs are sung, no blade is cast
In Durin's halls the evil lasts
The darkness hangs over his tomb
Beneath the mountain in the gloom
But e'er the fallen stars glow freer
In cold and breathless Mirrormere
There rests his crown in water clear
Till Durin returns once more from sleep