Poem - A hill never climbed

Post date: May 07, 2016 9:31:22 AM

By Ponso Pondhopper  

The other day I took a stroll, 

With no particular aim in mind. 

To pass some time, my only goal; 

Perhaps to see what I could find. 

Towards the Smials I set my feet;

Followed the crag, beneath the trees.

The sun shone brightly, what a treat!

And on my face a cooling breeze.

At copses' end, I took a right,

And climbed the path with boulders strewn;

Till Tuckborough hove into sight.

I stopped to rest; 'twas nearly noon.

My seat a stone, both wide and flat;

On a branch above, a blackbird trilled,

As in a reverie I sat;

Its endless song my spirits filled.

I thought of all the times I'd been

Sat on this stone, beneath this tree.

Of all the Shire sights I had seen,

And wondered if there was more to see.

And standing up, I spied a hill;

A lonely tree upon its crown.

I had the afternoon to kill,

So from my rock I scrambled down.

I said goodbye to the warbling bird;

Strode off once more across the sward.

The blackbird's song still plainly heard;

It's daring notes that thrilled and soared.

To my left, Great Willow, feet in mire;

To my right, a clump of silver birch.

I climbed the rise, onward and higher,

Determined in my dogged search.

And topping the ridge I saw the mound;

Encircled by a ring of stone.

Around its foot, a cart track wound,

And on its top, a tree, alone.

I scrambled down and crossed the lane;

And now the hill looked tall and bare.

My attempts to climb it were in vain;

No easy footholds anywhere!

But where's there's a will', my Dad would say,

'There's also a way, it can't be denied';

Determined was I to find the way,

And thought to try the other side.

I circled the base along the cliff;

The ground rose steeply by its side.

My legs grew tired, my back was stiff,

As I searched for the path as yet untried.

And then at last I found the way;

A grassy slope that smoothed the rise.

I scrambled up there straight away,

And what a view to meet my eyes!

Beneath my feet, the Farthing Stone,

Bywater beyond and Hobbiton Bridge;

The Party Tree, bedecked, alone,

And further on, The Hill's green ridge.

Here was a sight I'd never seen,

Bindbole wood in midday haze;

The distant Box Hills, blue and green.

More glorious view ne'er met my gaze!

So here I sat an hour, enthralled,

Watching the Water far below;

As through its vale it wound and sprawled.

I really didn't want to go.

But time, it's said, will never wait

For Hobbit, man or dwarf and elf;

The sun was dipping; it was late,

I woke from my daydream, shook myself.

I took a final look around,

And with a heavy heart, descended.

I followed the path that turned and wound;

Another exploration ended.

Odd that until this day I'd never

Climbed this hill, nor seen this sight;

Worth every ounce of my endeavour.

Inspiring view, a rare delight.

I headed home with sprightly gait;

The setting sun, low, in my eyes.

I didn't mind that it was late,

Not after winning such a prize!