Fear says tis folly still to try
Despair advises me to yield
But “No surrender” I reply
I will not quit the battlefield.
For Hope high on the mountain top
Serenly points towards the dawn
And Courage whispers “Don’t give up”
And Perseverance cried “Keep on!”
Soul-weary plodding up the slopes
(Far stars I glimpse thro’ mist and rain)
Heart-heavy with frustrated hopes,
I stumble, fall and rise again.
Still I am master of my mind
And of my soul I’m captain still
My “No surrender”, on the wind
Proclaims my progress up the hill.
I am not yet a ship in tow
Depending on another’s aid
Crippled, but still I’m fit to go
Off beaten but still undismayed.
Fear says ‘tis vain again to try
‘Give up’ Despair advises me
But “No Surrender” I reply
A coward I will never be.
For Hope high on her mountain top
Smiles with the glowing smile of dawn
And courage counsels “Don’ give up”
Cries Pereseverence Carry on”.
MICHAEL MULLIN – ‘The Bard of Foremass’
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.
Fotenote by P.D:
Those of you who are of the Bard and Jack family know that we are somewhat steadfast and those of you who know us would probably say we are THICK. My father in this poem puts these sentiments into verse with meter and rhyming. Its called ‘No Surrender’.
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
Sliding along the River of Time
As we go day by day.
A laugh or the lilt of a merry rhyme
Will help to brighten the way.
But when the River is wild and rough,
And dangerous and dark,
Enough it seems and more than enough.
To pilot our fragile bark.
These are the critical times of test:
The coward will cringe and doubt –
But strong stout hearts will be at their best
When all seems down and out.
Tis easy to sing when trouble free;
Tis easy a smile to wear;
Tis easy an optimist to be
When all is smooth and fair.
But here’s to the gallant lad who goes
With a lilt and smile along,
When the blizzard of misfortune blows
And everything seems wrong.
MICHAEL MULLIN, ‘The Bard of Foremass’,
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.
Sent 28 Jan ‘47