There lies the woods of Lothlorien! That is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are not trees like the trees of that land. For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the spring comes and the new green opens do they fall and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden and golden is it’s roof, and its pillars of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. So still our songs in Mirkwood say. My heart would be glad if I were beneath the eaves of that wood, and it were springtime!