In fields where shamrocks gently sway,
A soul departs on this solemn day.
Emerald whispers through the mist,
In silent dreams, the past persists.
The harpâs lament, a mournful tune,
Echoing beneath the silver moon.
Upon the hills, where shadows play,
The spirit finds its gentle way.
With every tear, a story told,
Of ancient legends, brave and bold.
In the heart of Eire, where the rivers run,
The journey ends, yet just begun.
Through Celtic winds, a quiet grace,
Embracing all in its tender embrace.
In the twilight of lifeâs gentle breath,
A peaceful rest, the Irish death.