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"[T]he trees and the grass do not now remember them." (Legolas in "The Ring Goes South," The Two Towers)
This was a city. Here the brave in vain
Fought the deceiver with his poisoned gift;
O'er shattered stones, through every crack and rift,
The wind cries shrilly like a voice in pain.
Yet even here, where thickly fell the slain
As autumn leaves, where dead leaves heap and drift,
The spring returns, and tiny saplings lift
Unfurling leaves and stretch to drink the rain.
The trees have risen higher since that day;
Their spreading roots have claimed the ground below,
Where skill and love of beauty once held sway.
Yet if this once-a-city's lord could know,
He would be glad of it. "Forget," he'd say.
"Forget me, seek the sunlight; rise and grow."