Tolkien wrote many poems and songs and used them in his books. Here you can read some of them. Only some of the names which are given to the poems are the names that Tolkien himself gave. When we couldn't find a name, we have added one ourselves.

"The Last Voyage of Eärendel"

Earendel arose where the shadows flows

At Ocean's silent brim

Through the mouth of night as a ray of light

Wehre the shores are sheer and dim

He launched his bark like a lsiver spark

From the last and lonely sand

Then on sunlit breath of day's fiery death

He sailed from Westerland

He threaded his path o'erthe aftermath

Of the splendour of the Sun

And wandered far past many a star

In his gleaming galleon

On the gathering tide of darkness ride

The argosies of the sky

And spangle the night with their sails of light

As the streaming star goes by

Unheeding he dips past these twinkling ships

By his wayward spirit whirled

On an endless quest through the darkling West

O`er the margin of the world

And he fares in haste o'er the jewelled waste

And the dusk from whence he came

With his heart afire with bright desire

And his face in silver flame

Tne Ship of the Moon from the East comes soon

From the Haven of the Sun

Whose white gates gleam in the coming beam

Of the mighty silver one

Lo! With bellying clouds as his vessel's shrouds

He weighs anchor down the dark

And on shimmering oars leaves the blazing shores

In his argent-timbered bark.

Then Earendel fled from the Shipman dread

Beyond the dark earth's pale

Back under the rim of the Ocean dim

And behind the wolrd set sail

And he heard the mirth of the folk of earth

And the falling of their tears

As the world dropped back in a cloudy wrack

On ist journey down the years

Then he glimmering passed to the starless vast

As an island lamp at sea

And beyond the ken of mortal men

Set his lonely errantry

Tracking the sun in his galleon

Through the pathless frimamment

Till his light grew old in abysses cold

And his eager flame was spent.

"Prelude"

In unknown days my fathers sires

Came, and from son to son took root

Among the orchards and the river-meads

And the long grasses of the fragrant plain

Many a summer saw they kindle yellow fires

Of iris in the bowing reeds

And many a sea of blossom turn to golden fruit

In walléd gardens of the great champain

There daffodils among the ordered trees

Did nod in spring and men laughed deep and long

Singing as they laboured happy lays

And lighting even with a drinking-song

There sleep came easy for the drone of bess

Thronging about cottage gardens heaped with flowers

In love of sunlit goodliness of days

There richly flowed their lives in settled hours

But that was long ago

And now no more they sing, nor reap, nor sow

And I perforce in many a town about this isle

Unsettled wanderer have dwelt awhile.