• Michael Mullins
  • Michael "The Bard" Mullin
  • "The Bard of Foremass"
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    Mountain musings

    What joy to wander o’er this mountain lonely,
    My pent soul fluttering with rapture rare,
    Unfettered fancies for companions only:

    I float above earth’s petty toil and care!

    ‘Tis sweet to rest upon this giant’s bosom:
    Sweeter to perch upon his princely crown,
    While soft winds croon to heather in full blossom –
    A regal robe of purple and of brown.

    I shut my eyes – I hear the curlews calling –
    Screams that should rouse the giant from his rest,
    I ope my eyes – I see a lark down falling:
    Or is it some bright spirit of the blest?

    The hills, the plains, the valleys lie before me;
    (Who would not love so beautiful a land?)
    A roof magnificent, high heaven, is o’er me
    By sunshine warmed, by cooling zephyrs fanned.

    Alone with God upon the lonely mountain!
    Each thought, each fancy is a prayer to Him;
    My soul o’erflows with love towards the Fountain
    Of Love. The world is far away and dim.

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