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An intriguing spot that I have noted on my many visits to The County. Always have taken interest in this spot and wished to bring more folks to come and appreciate the history, the item itself and the views from atop the "Mountain"
"GITCHI NAGAMO, meaning, in the Ojibway tongue, "A Beautiful Song", is one of those lofty and inexpressibly beautiful things that come to pass and exist to lift humanity above all common experience.
Of matchless tone, this far-famed bell, blest remembrancer of native American poesy, hauntingly lovely, voices, at dawn and sundown, the soul's true longing for beatitude.
GITCHI NAGAMO is rung, daily, by the Keeper of the Bell, a Mohawk of Kente.
Inasmuch as the birthright of the Redman of North America has been so trampled upon, neglected and beclouded, it is very gratifying to the Indians to have such a forthright and un-hoped-for recognition as this unsolicited and timeless tribute to the Indian's imaginative vision coming from the realm of light, the peak of cultural and spiritual comprehension, a poet."
If you look up inside the shelter of the bell there still remains the print out of the History of this item.
I conclude with the online version of the story and poetry of the namesake...My Mom and I thought this was quite an inspiring place to bring geocachers to...a journey itself that you can log as to its impact upon your "soul".
Here is the "poem"
Gitchi Nagamo
A Beautiful Song
This poem is lovingly dedicated
to
"The Abbe of Abbey Dawn",
Wallace Havelock Robb
and
his dear wife, Edna Ilene Robb
Within the sanctum of Abbey Dawn,
Deep in it's calm and cloisteral peace,
The kindly Poet-Abbe slept;
He dreamed he saw a bell-tower rise
From out the Abbey's hallowed ground,
And, in the belfry, slowly swung
A Spirit Bell of matchless tone
No ear of earth had ever heard,
Pealing heavenly music sweet,
Blent with creation's far refrain.
In dream, the Abbe sighed a prayer,
That love might store within his heart
The music of that soulful bell;
Behold, the bell, before his eyes,
Into a Redman was transformed,
Who spoke in gentle, lilting strain,
"Thy payers are heard, O Abbe kind,
Go search and cease not 'til you find
A bell of that ethereal tone,
Whose song will ring out eternally --
I am the soul of poesy."
Kajeje Yohsta
Additional Hints
(Decrypt)
Tragyr cynprq va gur prqne gerr nobhg rlr yriry(qrcraqvat ba ubj gnyy lbh ner)