В Англии, в старом школьном ежегоднике of Our Lady’s School in Oxfordshire за 1936 год, нашлись два ранее неизвестных стихотворения Толкина. Точнее, одно, "Noel", рождественское, совсем неизвестное, а второе, "The Shadow Man", позже было переработано и расширено, и уже в таком виде попало в "Приключения Тома Бомбадила". Интересно, что все поиски первоисточников новости приводят в конце к вот этой публикации в "The Guardian" от 16 февраля, но сейчас там нет (или я не нашёл?) самих стихотворений, а в перепечатках они попадаются. Убрали их, что ли? Или откуда их люди берут? Ну, короче, вот они.
Grim was the world and grey last night:
The moon and stars were fled,
The hall was dark without song or light,
The fires were fallen dead.
The wind in the trees was like to the sea,
And over the mountains’ teeth
It whistled bitter-cold and free,
As a sword leapt from its sheath.
The lord of snows upreared his head;
His mantle long and pale
Upon the bitter blast was spread
And hung o’er hill and dale.
The world was blind, the boughs were bent,
All ways and paths were wild:
Then the veil of cloud apart was rent,
And here was born a Child.
The ancient dome of heaven sheer
Was pricked with distant light;
A star came shining white and clear
Alone above the night.
In the dale of dark in that hour of birth
One voice on a sudden sang:
Then all the bells in Heaven and Earth
Together at midnight rang.
Mary sang in this world below:
They heard her song arise
O’er mist and over mountain snow
To the walls of Paradise,
And the tongue of many bells was stirred
In Heaven’s towers to ring
When the voice of mortal maid was heard,
That was mother of Heaven’s King.
Glad is the world and fair this night
With stars about its head,
And the hall is filled with laughter and light,
And fires are burning red.
The bells of Paradise now ring
With bells of Christendom,
And Gloria, Gloria we will sing
That God on earth is come.
The Shadow Man
There was a man who dwelt alone
beneath the moon in shadow.
He sat as long as lasting stone,
and yet he had no shadow.
The owls, they perched upon his head
beneath the moon of summer:
They wiped their beaks and thought him dead,
who sat there dumb all summer.
There came a lady clad in grey
beneath the moon a-shining.
One moment did she stand and stay
her head with flowers entwining.
He woke, as had he sprung of stone,
beneath the moon in shadow,
And clasped her fast, both flesh and bone;
and they were clad in shadow.
And never more she walked in light,
or over moonlit mountain,
But dwelt within the hill, where night
is lit but with a fountain –
Save once a year when caverns yawn,
and hills are clad in shadow,
They dance together then till dawn
and cast a single shadow.
J.R.R. Tolkien, 1936.