In the twilight hour’s gentle embrace,
Where shadows whisper secrets of old,
A spark of hope begins to trace,
Stories that the heart holds bold.

Amidst the stars that softly weep,
Dreams awaken from their silent sleep,
With wings of light, they gently sweep,
The night’s deep sigh, a promise to keep.

Through valleys dark and mountains high,
Hope’s eternal flame will never die,
It dances in the midnight sky,
A beacon for the soul’s soft cry.

So let us tread with hearts so pure,
Through life’s great maze, ever sure,
That hope, like love, will ever endure,
In Yeats’ words, our spirits secure.