Show me JRR Tolkien's poetry. "The fat cat sat on the mat."; No, show me his poetry. "Gil-Galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing."; No! I said poetry! " Right at the Balrog's feet it broke, and the stone upon which it stood crashed into the gulf, while the rest remained, poised, quivering like a tongue of rock thrust out into emptiness."; Ah! Perfection!
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