Good-bye to tree and tower, To meadow, stream, and hill, Beneath the white clouds marshalled close At the wind's will.
Good-bye to the gay garden, With prim geraniums pied, And spreading yew trees, old, unchanging Tho' men have died.
Good-bye to the New Castle, With granite walls and grey, And rooms where faded greatness still Lingers to-day.
To every friend in Mallow, When I am gone afar, These words of ancient Celtic hope, "Peace after war."
I would return to Erin When all these wars are by, Live long among her hills before My last good-bye.