To-day in dreams I stand on Carrickascopal,
On Carrickascopal with its golden crown;
Where Foremass smiles across at Altamuskin –
On either face no shadow of a frown.

Spring now is there; and song and beauty linger
On Carrickascopal, and each sunlit brae
And down the valley where the shining river
Pursues, with graceful curves, its pleasant way.

What dreams I dreamt of yore on Carrickascopal!
A sanguine and enthusiastic boy.
‘Mong dust of dreams and ghosts of vanished visions,
I feel a longing pain and a sad joy.

I know the birds now sing on Carrickascopal;
I know spring now has decked its gorse with gold –
But oh! I know not am I there remembered
By friend or playmate of the days of old.

Michael Mullin
‘The Bard of Foremass’

Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.

The reapers are mowing in Foremass meadows;
The sunbeams are chasing away the shadows
O’er fence and field;
The sweet winds are harping on branch and bramble,
That makes around us where we ramble
A pleasant shield.

We know by the gold with the green grain blending
That autumn is near us, and summer ending.
And in the hush –
While hearing the reapers in meadows mowing,
And turf carts o’er the white roads going –
We fondly wish.

That God may guide us through Foremass meadows,
By its rivers and roads, ‘mid the deep’ning shadows
Of Eventide;
With friends that we trust, and our loved ones near us,
And these dear scenes to soothe and cheer us
Down Life’s hillside.

–

Michael Mullin

‘The Bard of Foremass’

Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.

Clasped in the hills’ embrace, this vale reclines –
Like a sweet child within its mother’s arms;
Blows the cool wind, and the warm sunlight shines
On cosy cottages and peaceful farms.

This is my home.  It is a day of June,
I am reclining in my favourite spot;
So near a river that I hear its croon –
So far from cities that I know them not.

I love this happy valley and this stream
With love deep-rooted, permanent, and strong;
Here I perform my task, I dream my dream,
I sow and reap, and sing my simple song.

The song I sing may not be great or grand,
The test of time it may not long endure;
But it still fills my soul with solace and
My heart with pleasure that is sweet and pure.

Michael Mullin

‘The Bard of Foremass’

Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.