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.

"Princess Mee"

Lovely was she

As in elven-song is told :

She had pearls in hair

All threaded fair;

Of gossamer shot with gold

Was her kerchief made,

And a sliver braid

Of stars about her throat.

Of moth-web light

All moonlit-white

She wore a woven coat,

and round her kirtle

Was bound a girdle

Sewn with diamond dew.

She walked by day

Under mantle grey

And hood of clouded blue;

But she went by night

All glittering bright

Under the starlit sky,

And her slippers frail

Of fishes' mail

Flashed as she went by

To her dancing-pool,

And on mirror cool

Of windless water played.

As a mist if light

In whirling flight

A glint like glass she made

Wherever her feet

Of sliver fleet

Flicked the dancing-floor

She looked on high

To the roofless sky,

And she looked to the shadowy shore;

Then round she went,

And her eyes she bent

And saw beneath her go

A Princess Shee

As fair as Mee :

They were dancing toe to toe!

 

Shee was as light

As Mee, and as bright;

But Shee was, strange to tell,

Hanging down

With starry crown

Into a bottomless well!

Her gleaming eyes

In great surprise

Looked up to the eyes of Mee :

A marvellous thing,

Head-down to swing

Above a starry sea !

Only their feet

Could ever meet;

For where the ways might lie

To find a land

Where they do not stand

But hang down in the sky

No one could tell

Not learn in spell

In all the elven-lore.

So still on her own

And elf alone

Dancing as before

With pearls in her hair

And kirtle fair

And slippers frail

Of fishes' mail went Mee:

Of fishes' mail

And slippers frail

And kirtle fair

With pearls in hair went Shee !

"The Stone Troll"

Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,

And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;

For many a year he had gnawed it near,

For meat was hard to come by.

Done by! Gum by!

In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,

And meat was hard to come by.

Up came Tom with his big boots on.

Said he to Troll: Pray what is yon?

For it looks like the shin o`my nuncle Tim,

As should be a-lyin´ in graveyard

Caveyard! Paveyard!

This many a year has Tim been gone,

And I thought he were lying´ in graveyard.

My lad, said Troll, this bone I stole.

But what be bones that lie in hole?

Thy nuncle was dead as a lamp o`lead,

Afore I found his shinbone.

Tinbone! Tinbone!

He can spare a share for a poor old troll

For he don´t need his his shinbone.

Said Tom: I don´t see why the likes o` thee

Without axin`leave should go makin´ free

With the shank or the shin o` my father´s kin;

So hand the old bone over!

Rover! Trover!

Though dead he be, it belongs to he;

So hend the old bone over!

For a couple o` pins, says Troll and grins,

I´ll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.

A bit o` fresh meat will go down sweet!

I´ll try my teeth on thee now.

Hee now! See now!

I´m tired o` gnawing old bones and skins;

I´ve a mind to dine on thee now.

But just as he thought his dinner was caught,

He found his hands had hold of naught.

Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind

And gave him the boot to larn him.

Warn him! Darn him!

A bump o` the boot on the seat, Tom thought,

Would be the way to larn him.

But harder than stone is the flesh and bone

Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.

As well set your boot to the mounain´s root,

For the seat of a troll don´t feel it.

Peel it! Heal it!

Old Troll laughed, when he heared Tom groan,

And he knew his toes could feel it.

Tom´s legs is game, since home he came,

And his bootless is lasting lame;

But Troll don´t care, and he`s still there

With the bone he boned from ist owner.

Doner! Boner!

Troll´s old seat is still the same,

And the bone he boned from ist owner!

"Oliphaunt"

Grey as a mouse,

Big as a house,

Nose like a snake,

I make the earth shake,

As I tramp through the grass;

Trees crack as I pass.

With horns in my mouth

I walk in the South,

Flapping big ears.

Beyond count of years

I stump round and round,

Never lie on the ground,

Not even to die.

Oliphaunt am I,

Biggest of all,

Huge, old, and tall.

If ever you'd meet me,

You wouldn't forget me.

If you never do,

You won't think I'm true;

But old Oliphaunt am I,

And I never lie.