I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled poets to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.
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Gil-galad was an Elven-king. Of him the harpers sadly sing: the last whose realm was fair and freebetween the Mountains and the Sea. His sword was long, his lance was keen, his shining helm afar was seen; the countless stars of heaven's fieldwere mirrored in his silver shield. But long ago he rode away, and where he dwelleth none can say; for into darkness fell his starin Mordor where the shadows are.
J. R. R. Tolkien