• Michael Mullins
  • Michael "The Bard" Mullin
  • "The Bard of Foremass"
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    An Autumn Scene

    The Autumn day is drawing to a close.
    The vale sinks softly, gently to repose,
    Like a tired babe. The wind has fall’n asleep:
    That wind which helped me all the day to reap
    The golden corn.  I hear no song of bird;
    The trees stand silent – not a leaf is stirred.
    So deep the calm, I feel constrained to curb
    My wayward steps, lest they the calm disturb.
    Angels are lighting heaven’s lamps on high,
    Still smiles the West at the sun’s last good-bye.
    Night! And the moon o’er the dim hill appears;
    Dimming with her pale rays remoter spheres.
    Upward she moves, majestic and serene;
    Queen of the night – indeed a glorious queen.
    Now standing ‘mid the stooks of garnered corn,
    Where reaping, I have passed the hours since morn.
    Earth’s petty things recede; my soul takes flight;
    And, soaring through the realms of the Night,
    Sees in this picture spreading far and broad,
    A part of the magnificence of God.
    My heart, much moved by the sublime repose,
    Tastes of the Peace which only God bestows;
    Tastes of the joy which is in true accord
    With what the Blessed feel before the Lord.

    Michael Mullin
    ‘The Bard of Foremass’

    Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.