Go not to the hills of Erin
		  When the night winds are about;
		Put up your bar and shutter
		  And so keep the danger out.
		
		For the good-folk whirl within it,
		  And they pullyou by the hand,
		And they push you on the shoulder,
		  Till you move to their command.
		
		And lo! you have forgotten
		  What you have known of tears,
		And you will not remember
		  That the world goes full of years:
		
		A year there is a lifetime
		  And a second but a day;
		And an older world will meet you
		  Each morn you come away.
		
		Your wife grows old with weeping,
		  And your children one by one
		Grow gray with nights of watching,
		  Before your dance is done.
		
		And it will chance some morning
		  You will come home no more;
		Your wife sees but a withered leaf
		  In the wind about the door.
		
		And your children will inherit
		  The unrest of the wind;
		They shall seek some face elusive,
		  And some land they never find.
		
		When the wind is loud, they sighing
		  Go with hearts unsatisfied,
		For some joy beyond remembrance,
		  For some memory denied.
		
		And all your children's children,
		  They cannot sleep or rest,
		When the wind is out in Erin
		  And the sun is in the West.

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