An agéd man clomb slowly up the mounting stair
While blackened clouds whipped round the sky like windblown hair.
‘Pon ancient shoulders was a frame that trudged away
Assailed by gusts that tugged and pulled the garment fray’d.
The man climbed slowly, slowly, up the elder stone
Whose staircase mounted up one side of mountain-lone
This granite rock whose hoary head in winter’s sleep
Scowled low and fey around the country long and deep
It cast its shadow round the land it stood upon
A mountain dark with secrets hid – of more anon.
Upon the topmost brow of rock a tower stood
A withered finger pointing up as though it would
Rip down the darkened clouds that often clothed it round
And dared the lightning bolt to strike it on the ground.
Still climbing, ever climbing, up the mountain steps
That circled round the mountain side he walking kept
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