The Wind on the Hills

by

Dora Sigerson

(Written Approx 1895-1900)

  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.