In western lands beneath the Sun
the flowers may rise in Spring,
the trees may bud, the waters run,
the merry finches sing.
Or there maybe ’tis cloudless night
and swaying beeches bear
the Elven-stars as jewels white
amid their branching hair.
Though here at journey’s end I lie
in darkness buried deep,
beyond all towers strong and high,
beyond all mountains steep,
above all shadows rides the Sun
and Stars forever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
nor bid the Stars farewell.
Long may he be remembered. TNH and I treasure the memory of his explanation of how he became Official Dendrochronologist to the King of Morocco.
Long indeed.
And heh. We didn’t hear that story specifically at the memorial service, but there were several people who did talk about their time in Morocco with Tom. (Burros and Mercedes were both involved.)