In fields where whispers weave the air,
Seamus Heaney’s spirit lingers still,
Through every word, a gentle care,
In verses carved with steadfast quill.
The earth he tilled with vibrant lines,
Stories rich in ancient lore,
Where past and present intertwine,
On nature’s canvas, he explored.
Each metaphor a seed well sown,
In hearts and minds, they take their root,
A harvest of the known and unknown,
In language pure, yet absolute.
Heaneyâs voice, a guiding star,
In quiet moments, clear and bright,
His legacy will travel far,
A beacon in the endless night.