Victorian Hills.Sonnet 4

Sonnet 4: The Summit Won

The mountain wall arose into the sky,A jagged spine of ice and frozen stone,Where bitter gales of winter fiercely cry,And leave the daring traveler alone.Each step was bought with agony and strain,The frozen fingers clutching at the peak,While failure whispered of the coming pain,And told the climber that his flesh was weak.Yet purpose drove the leaden feet to move,Beyond the clouds where heavy tempests grow,A stubborn will that sought at last to prove,That human spirit rules the world below.Now standing high above the drifting cloud,The weary climber lifts his head, unbowed.Sonnet