A Sonnet for Sir Ernest
Henry Worsley
Rest, Sir Ernest, rest beneath your star;
All striving done and "life's set prize" attained:
Not geographic goals, but greater far
The pinnacles of leadership you gained.
Rest, Sir Ernest, rest. God knows there's none
Deserves it more: The long Antarctic night
Now friend, not foe, with South's white warfare won
And crew from death's dark door led back to light.
How was it your endurance overcame
The daily struggle just to keep alive
Long past the point where death would bring no shame?
Half starved and frozen, how did you survive,
And how no man lost while in your care?
God knows. God knows it well. For he was there.
(written by South Pole explorer Henry Worsley
for his idol, South Pole explorer Ernest Shackleton)
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p2: defenestrate
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