from The Winding Banks of Erne

Adieu to evening dance, when merry neighbours meet,
And the fiddle says to boys and girls, "Get up and shake your feet!"
To 'shanachus' and wise old talk of Erin's days gone by–
Who trench'd the rath on such a hill, and where the bones may lie
Of saint or king, or warrior chief; with tales of fairy power,
And tender ditties sweetly sung to pass the twilight hour.
The mournful song of exile is now for me to learn–
Adieu, my dear companions on the winding banks of Erne!

William Allingham
(1824-1889)

From the Appletree Press title: A Little Book of Irish Verse .

Also from Appletree:
Appletree Book of Celtic Verse
A Little Book of Scottish Verse
A Little Book of English Verse .