In shadows cast by ancient trees,
Where whispers of the wind do weave,
A flicker of hope, a gentle tease,
In the heart of those who believe.

Yeats’ verses, a beacon bright,
Through the darkest night they lead,
Words of wisdom, pure and light,
For the soul in search of need.

Beyond the veil of present sorrow,
Lies a dawn of golden hue,
Promises of a better morrow,
In the dreams we dare pursue.

So hold steadfast, O weary heart,
Embrace the hope that Yeats imparts,
For in his lines, a fresh start,
A world reborn, where hope never departs.