Going Downhill Poem by Douglas McClarty

A sad monument of human folly lies crumbling
The wind of time has taken its heart and soul
Those who lived here have now departed
Leaving a small glimpse of the bishops dream

A harp plays softly, the temple looks to sea
The golden beach erased past soft footsteps
Were they walked in Downhill summer days
And looked back at Shanahan's creation.

Above the cliffs Hervey's coach is drawn
To the Lion's Gate from Derry to Demesne
The Snow Leopard's in his arms do dwell
Now this bishops monument, a pathetic shell.