From The Fellowship of the Ring

An Elvin-maid there was of old,
  A shining star by day:
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
  Her shoes of silver-grey.

A star was bound upon her brows,
  A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
  In Lórien the fair.

Her hair was long, her limbs were white,
  And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
  As leaf of linden-tree.

Beside the falls of Nimrodel
  By water clear and cool,
Her voice as falling silver fell
  Into the shining pool.

Where now she wanders none can tell,
  In silver or in shade;
For lost of yore was Nimrodel
  And in the mountains strayed.

The elven-ship in haven grey
  Beneath the mountain-lee
Awaited her for many a day
  Beside the roaring sea.

A wind by night in Northern lands
  Arose, and loud it cried,
And drove the ship from elven-strands
  Across the streaming tide.

When dawn came dim the land was lost,
  The mountains sinking grey
Beyond the heaving waves that tossed
  Their plumes of blinding spray.

Amroth beheld the fading shore
  Now low beyond the swell,
And cursed the faithless ship that bore
  Him far from Nimrodel.

Of old he was an Elven-king,
  A lord of tree and glen,
When golden were the boughs in spring
  In fair Lothlórien.

From helm to sea they saw him leap,
  As arrow from the string,
And dive into the waters deep,
  As mew upon the wing.

The wind was in his flowing hair,
  The foam about him shone;
Afar they saw him strong and fair
  Go riding like a swan.

But from the West has come no word,
  And on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
  Of Amroth evermore.