• Michael Mullins
  • Michael "The Bard" Mullin
  • "The Bard of Foremass"
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    Green Fields

    Green fields! Far off, I hear you calling calling;
    The night is falling in this busy mart;
    Despite this ceaseless din, despite the distance,
    You with persistence whisper to my heart.

    Green fields! I see you through the smoke and shadows;
    I see cool meadows where the lambkins play
    I hear the faint music of a river
    That sings for ever, where I used to stray.

    Green fields! I see you; and in dreams I listen –
    Where damp webs glisten on the golden gorse –
    I listen to the hill-winds harping sweetly,
    Pursuing fleetly their unfettered course.

    Green fields! I see you with your bright May flowers,
    Your sun and showers and your gems of dew;
    Where benweeds genuflect to fairy fingers
    Where the bee lingers, as I used to do

    Green fields! I see you ‘mid your trees and bushes;
    I hear your thrushes and your linnets sing;
    I listen to your larks, like angels singing,
    While heavenward winging with their odes of Spring.

    Green fields! far off, I hear you calling to me –
    A thrill runs through me in this lonesome mart,
    Receive the blessing of an exile lonely
    Green fields! the only green spot in my heart

    Michael Mullin,’The Bard of Foremass’
    Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross. Co. Tyrone.

    Newspaper cutting


    A prize of Half a Guinea is offered for the best contribution to this column every week.  Poems submitted must be original and should be written on one side of the paper only.  Every poem submitted must have author’s name and address at end.  COPIES ONLY of poems should be sent, as return of poems cannot e guaranteed.

    The prize for Irish Verse is awarded to Michael Mullin
    for “Green Fields”