The Dinny Math
We are the gentle people:
The passing dust we are,
With gusty laughter blowing
Near and far.
We are the gentle people,
Nor deal in praise or blame,
But we stand before your sorrow,
And we stand behind your shame.
We are the gentle people,
And soft our music's blown
When kindly hearts that loved us
Are passing from their own.
We are the gentle people,
And gently draw away
The light feet to our dancing
Night and day.
We are the gentle people,
And though our toll we take
Of milk and meal and water —
For old sake's sake
Ye grudge us not, who grudge not
To watch your folded kine,
To bless the wheels and the pillows
And the lace-threads fine.
We are the gentle people,
Mavrone, and we shall pass
Even as the dew, that Morning
Dries from the short green grass.
Oh, the dew returns at twilight,
But not so we —
We shall pass like wind, so be ye kind
To the passing Shee.