In the misty veil where shadows dance,
A whisper lingers, a mournful glance.
Emerald fields hold stories untold,
Of lives once vibrant, now quiet and cold.

Among the stones where memories weep,
The sea sings mournful, the hillsides steep.
An Irish heart bids its gentle adieu,
Wrapped in the mist, in the morning dew.

The echoes of laughter, now ghosts in the night,
Carry tales of joy and the endless fight.
With each soft breeze, a spirit’s sigh,
In the land of green, where legends lie.

Yet in the sorrow blooms the tender grace,
Of those remembered in this sacred place.
Their legacy whispers through the twilight’s breath,
In the quiet embrace of Irish death.