• Michael Mullins
  • Michael "The Bard" Mullin
  • "The Bard of Foremass"
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    It blew into my garden,
    A breeze soft and mild;
    It chased away the chill
    Of a winter wild;
    And the pale faced snowdrops
    Looked up and smiled.

    On the bleak hill of Age
    I was walking alone
    When a tender recollection
    From boyhood flown
    Met me: – the bleakness
    Far away was blown.

    A kindly mem’ry travels
    A long long road –
    A lift, a gift, or a smile bestowed.
    Kindness is the key
    To joy’s abode.

    MICHAEL MULLIN, ‘The Bard of Foremass’,
    Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.
    Sent 17 Feb ‘47