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 woked and walked alone The world was fair, the mountains tall, in elder days before the fall The western seas have pa**ed: The world was fair in Durin's Day A king he was on carven throne, in many-pillared halls of stone With golden roof and silver floor and runes of power upon the door The world was fair, the mountains tall, in elder days before the fall The western seas have pa**ed: The world was fair in Durin's Day The world is grey, the mountains old. The darkness dwells in Durin's halls But still the sunken star appears in dark and windless mirrormere There lies his crown in water deep, 'till Durin wakes again from sleep