And there it was
a tall hill, almost a pyramid
cloaked in green grass and cloud shadow
topped by a grey tower
gaunt, noble against the blue sky

And there it was
the chalk path
just as she said it would be
rising like a pilgrim's way

And there they were
the red roofs of the town below
and the two sister hills Wearyall and Chalice
and beyond those the water cuts
glinting amid the fields.

In the distance were town spires
strange hills, dreaming woods
the ragged line of the Mendips
and when he turned his head
to the south and west
and craned his eyes as far as he could see
there was the sea-haze rising above
untold low lands, inlets, bays and harbours
the land of sunset.

And so he walked the chalk path
steeper under foot than it had seemed to the eye
and he felt something catch in his pocket
He slipped in his hand and drew out her letter

The sun beat on his neck and shoulders
still hot in its hour of setting
and his shadow, immeasurably long
made the climb ahead of him
reaching the open gate of the tower
long before he did