• Michael Mullins
  • Michael "The Bard" Mullin
  • "The Bard of Foremass"
  • Poem Banner
    O! Cruel Fate

    O! wind, croon low, and softly play
    Upon these sallies slender;
    And wake a weeping dirge to-day
    Pathetic, sweet and tender,
    For brown-haired Maire Og, whose voice
    Is music’s sweetest tone,
    Loved Maire, who has all my heart,
    Will never be my own.

    O! sun, put on a misty veil –
    Your brightness minds me of her;
    Grow dark, blue skies (blue are her eyes)
    Ye pain her hapless lover
    O! stream, that blithely sang to me
    In days of long ago,
    A barefoot boy I shared thy joy-
    Now share with me my woe.

    Be still, O! thrush; O! skylark, hush,
    Sing not to-day O! robin;
    Ye mind me of her heav’nly voice
    Ye set my spirit sobbin’.
    O! earth, O! sky, O! everything,
    All, all I hear and see –
    Ye waken thoughts (I wish they’d sleep)
    Sad, bitter thoughts in me.