You may see a girl with my face and tresses,You may see one come to my mother's doorWho may speak my words and may wear my dresses.She will not be I, for I come no more.
I am gone, gone far, with the fairies roaming,You may ask of me where the herons areIn an open marsh when the snipe are homing,Or when no moon lights nor a single star.
On stormy nights when the streams are foamingAnd a hint may come of my haunts afar,With the reeds my floor and my roof the gloaming,But I come no more to Ballynar.
Ask Father Ryan to read no verses,To call me back, for I am this dayFrom Blessings far, and beyond curses.No heaven shines where we ride away.
At speed unthought of in all your stables,With the gods of old and the sons of Finn,With the queens that reigned in olen fablesAnd kings that won what a sword can win.
You may hear us streaming above your gablesOn nights as still as a plant's spin;But never stir from your chairs and tablesTo call my name, I shall not come in.
For I am gone to the fairy people,Make the most of that other childWho prays with you by the village steepleI am gone away to the woods and wild.
I am gone away to the open spaces,And whither riding no man may tell;But I shall look upon all your facesNo more in Heaven or Earth or Hell.
- Lord Dunsanay -