Silvertine

High on the mountains highest ridge
Where oft the stormy winter gale
Cuts life a scythe, while through the clouds
It sweeps from vale to vale;
Not five yards from the mountain path
Silvertine you on the left espy;
And to the left, three yards beyond
You see a little muddy pound
I looked around, I thought I saw
A jutting crag, and off I ran
Head-foremost, through the driving rain
The shelter of the crag to gain;
And, as I am a man
Instead a jutting crag, I found
Durins tower up from the ground…