Deep in my hidden country stands a peak, <br />and none hath known its name <br />and none, save I, hath even skill to seek: <br />thence my wild spirit came. <br />Thither I turn, when the day's garish world <br />too long hath vex'd my sight, <br />and bare my limbs where the great winds are whirl'd <br />and life's undreaded might. <br />For there I know the pools of clearest blue, <br />glad wells of simple sooth, <br />there, steep'd in strength of glacier springs, renew <br />the lucid body of youth, <br />there I alone may know the joy of quest <br />and keen delight of cold, <br />or rest, what time the night with naked breast <br />and shaken hair of gold, <br />folds me so close, that her great breath would seem <br />to fill the darkling heart <br />with solemn certainty of ancient dream <br />or whisperingly to impart <br />aeonian life, larger than seas of light, <br />more limpid than the dawn: <br />there, when my foot hath touch'd the topmost height, <br />the fire from heaven is drawn. <br />If any murmur that my 'sdainful hand <br />withholds its sacrifice <br />where ranged unto the Law the peoples stand, <br />let this blown word suffice: <br />The gift of self is self's most sacred right: <br />only where none hath trod, <br />only upon my secret starry height <br />I abdicate to God.<br /><br />Christopher John Brennan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/1897/
