Of Lost Glades Poem by Austyn O'Dwyer

Where are you glade?
Where do you live?
Or are you but a part of me?
Where is your grand, majestic limb,
Where is your sacred willow tree?
Of every wood in all the land,
My searching, fruitless, tires me.
My quest to find your cedar hand,
Idle, waiting, eternally.
From within the quarreled pines I hear,
Your billowed leaves enticing me.
Come back, come near, you are asleep.
Wake now, be in harmony.