In the quiet of the night, whispers softly call,
Through shadows that dance, where moonlight falls.
Hope, like a gentle breeze, stirs the soul,
Guiding weary hearts toward a distant goal.

Yeats’ words, a beacon in the dark,
Illuminate paths with a flickering spark.
In dreams where the soul finds its grace,
Hope weaves its tapestry, a delicate lace.

Stars adorn the sky, silent and bright,
A promise of dawn after the longest night.
In every verse, a melody of light,
Hope sings, unfurling its wings in flight.

So let the echoes of Yeats’ gentle song,
Carry you through where you truly belong.
In the tapestry of time, hope’s threads entwine,
Binding the heart to dreams divine.