The Mount on Yonder Shore

There was a mount on yonder shore;
Its base was wide and deep
Years beyond count in Numenor,
Where winds did glide and sweep.

I climbed it there, the lonely hill,
The roughened rocky road
Where winds blow fair; no hiss or shrill
Where toughened heights abode.

Along the way there was a sward
Of beaming golden grass
Where I would lay my polished sword:
The gleaming olden pass.

I looked upon the lands below,
The shimmering land I saw.
I looked thereon so long ago;
Its glimmering in awe.

The river cleaves both south and swift
Below the woven stair
>From where it leaves its mouth, adrift
In pathways cloven fair.

I cast my gaze upon the Tower
O’er breeze of silver sheen
In older days of Elven power,
In tossing seas of green.

And so the earth was known to me
In elder days of yore,
But now no mirth o’er hither sea
Will gaze t’ward Numenor.

–Jonathan Taylor

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