The words you wove, now silent, still,
Amidst the fields and rolling hills,
Your pen, a plough, turned soil to gold,
A voice that never shall grow old.

From Bogland depths to skies so clear,
Your verses echoed, strong and near,
A bard of earth, of toil, and peace,
Whose legacy shall never cease.

In every line, a world unveiled,
In every rhyme, your spirit sailed,
Through time and space, your essence flies,
A beacon ‘neath the Irish skies.

Though now you’ve crossed the quiet sea,
Your words remain, a memory,
Seamus Heaney, rest in grace,
Your poetry, a timeless place.