Poems and Stories - 'The Mist Is On Slieve Gullion' by Peter Makem

The mist is on Slieve Gullion,
Morning mist as the break of dawn 
Brightens under morning star.
The winds that gather there, 
The north wind's early breath 
Is sudden milk, is sudden cloth 
When the first stretch of day 
Touches the cold, dark body.

The mist is on Slieve Gullion, 
Flowing mist in the flare of sun 
As the cloths in full colour come 
Into their blossom, into bloom.
And memories there spill their tale 
Of wild deed and solemn deed, 
Whisperings, and horn call, 
And bearings for the dead.

But the cloth of day is fading, 
Fading into the falling dark 
As sleep spreads out its wing, 
And dreaming comes to stir awake, 
And we watch from beyond our Ring 
In woolen weave, in weave of silk, 
The mountain mouths of morning
Feeding at the dawn milk.

Peter Makem