An Elven-maid there was of old,   A shining star by day:   Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,   Her shoes of silver-grey.      A star was bound upon her brows,   A light was on her hair   As sun upon the golden boughs   In Lórien the fair.      Her hair was long, her limbs were white,   And fair she was and free;   And in the wind she went as light   As leaf of linden-tree.      Beside the falls of Nimrodel,   By water clear and cool,   Her voice as falling silver fell   Into the shining pool.      Where now she wanders none can tell,   In sunlight or in shade;   For lost of yore was Nimrodel   And in the mountains strayed.