In the quiet of the night, where shadows dance,
Yeats’ words breathe life into silent dreams,
A world where hope is a gentle glance,
Amidst the stars, a guiding beam.

The moonlight weaves tales of forgotten lore,
In every line, a promise unfurls,
A future painted on a distant shore,
Where whispers of hope embrace the world.

Beneath the canopy of endless sky,
His verses sing of undying faith,
A melody where no dreams die,
Where hope is an eternal wraith.

In every stanza, a soul’s respite,
Yeats’ hope whispers in the breeze,
A timeless echo in the night,
Where dreams and reality find their peace.