incessantly softly wash again, and ever again by Zdenka  

incessantly softly wash again, and ever again

Come again, O rain! Wash away the blood and ashes from the trampled plain. Quench the fires burning from the dragon’s wrath, and let your drops smooth out the path whereon to battle rode the last king of Nargothrond. Weigh down the dripping leaves until they fall about him like a mournful coronal. No more the silver circlet will be worn, no more the banners with their golden rays be raised aloft as in King Finrod’s days.

Fall, O rain! With gentle fingers close the eyes of Gwindor, valiant to the end, left by his hasty friend without a burial.