In the stillness of the evening’s glow,
Where shadows drape the weary land,
Yeats whispers through the winds that blow,
With hopes that dreams might understand.

Amidst the twilight’s gentle sigh,
Where stars begin their nightly dance,
He finds a glimmer in the sky,
A promise held in fate’s own chance.

Through ancient woods and silent streams,
His words like echoes softly weave,
In every heart and every dream,
A spark of hope that won’t deceive.

So let the night embrace its lore,
With Yeats’ hope as guiding light,
For in the dreams that we explore,
We find our courage, take our flight.