• Michael Mullins
  • Michael "The Bard" Mullin
  • "The Bard of Foremass"
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    A wee peat posy

    Behind an old turf clamp
    I spied my wee peat posy,
    Among the mosses damp,
    So small and sweet and rosy.
    The mist came o’er the bog,
    The mist and rain together;
    Enveloped in the fog
    Were moorland, ling and heather.
    The rain-mist drifted by:
    The smiling sun came after –
    And all the earth and sky
    Seemed on the verge of laughter.
    A hundred sun-kist tears,
    Like precious jewels sparkled
    Upon a hundred spears
    That this sweet flower encircled.
    O, wondrous, winsome gem!
    Why art thou here in hiding?
    A fairy diadem
    Art thou, for fairies biding?
    Child of the peat and mist,
    So fair and frail and rosy,
    Lark-loved, bedewed, sun-kist,
    Shine on, my wee peat posy!

    Michael Mullin ‘The Bard of Foremass’

    Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.