Author of the Month

Four Poems (cont.)
By Jim Macaulay

Oh! I would unto a Wild Wood go
And there seek the calming balm of indolence.

Oh I would into that Wild Wood go
And there let down my guard.

And there, on beds of moss will I,
Rest beneath the star filled sky.

And once that I am safely come
I will lay me down, light as innocence

Care-free as a lover's step
When hence to his beloved's arms he turns.

Oh the magic of a mind set free:
Free in the Wild Wood without a care to be.

But can I into the Wild Wood go
To seek and find that thing

Of which I do not know;
And be content?

And if into the Wild Wood deep I go
But find no peace,

Because my cares I could not leave,
Then sorrow lies within my soul
And I will pine and grieve.

May not it be there is no Wild Wood there for me?
Save over yonder mountains high.

But no one there may safely go
With hopes of safe return.

For it is but a spirit place
Where groves of fairy trees

Stand tall, beset by magic
Crowned with beauty, draped with webs

Upon which dew jewels sparkle,
Day and night, lit from within.

But you should know
About this place,

A place on which
Men hang their hopes.

But they like all their kind
Know not that simple hope

Does not a freedom bring,
Nor yet relief from fear and woe.

So if you would into the Wild Wood go,
Take care the burden which you bear
Is left behind outside.

© Jim Macaulay

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