Holy of holies Confessions of an anarchist [by J. E. Barlas] |
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21
XVII.
[Sometimes I stand upon a mountain-peak.]
Sometimes I stand upon a mountain-peak.And hold communion with the evening star,
That no dull sound of the low earth may mar,
And from the summit of my spirit speak,
Alone with the keen air and the snow-streak.
The fogs of evil memory lie afar,
Down in the darkness where great cities are,
Where human habitations roar and reek.
There, swathed in my clear childhood's atmosphere,
Sin's intervening clouds o'erclimbed, aneled,
I gaze with chastened eyelids up to thee;
And through the solemn air of thought I hear
The moaning of love's waves, and catch revealed
The far off silver of the future sea.
Oct. 11th, 1885.
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