“Poetry,” Bilbo proclaimed, tapping the page before him, “is the language of the divine. It is characterized by rhythm and usually rhyme. It contains words carefully chosen to convey imagery and feeling. Listen!
“Gil-galad was an Elven king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing….”
Later Frodo found Sam poring over the book from which Bilbo had read, his lips moving, tasting each syllable, committing the poem to memory. Realizing he was no longer alone, he looked up, not with guilt but with suppressed excitement. “Do you think, Master Frodo, as some day I might see such a thing as Elves?”