Here you will find thePoem1897of poet Christopher John Brennan
Deep in my hidden country stands a peak, and none hath known its name and none, save I, hath even skill to seek: thence my wild spirit came. Thither I turn, when the day's garish world too long hath vex'd my sight, and bare my limbs where the great winds are whirl'd and life's undreaded might. For there I know the pools of clearest blue, glad wells of simple sooth, there, steep'd in strength of glacier springs, renew the lucid body of youth, there I alone may know the joy of quest and keen delight of cold, or rest, what time the night with naked breast and shaken hair of gold, folds me so close, that her great breath would seem to fill the darkling heart with solemn certainty of ancient dream or whisperingly to impart aeonian life, larger than seas of light, more limpid than the dawn: there, when my foot hath touch'd the topmost height, the fire from heaven is drawn. If any murmur that my 'sdainful hand withholds its sacrifice where ranged unto the Law the peoples stand, let this blown word suffice: The gift of self is self's most sacred right: only where none hath trod, only upon my secret starry height I abdicate to God.
