In twilight’s tender, fading light,
His spirit soared beyond the night,
The poet’s voice, now soft and still,
Awaits the dawn upon the hill.

Beneath the stars, his visions danced,
In realms of thought, his mind entranced,
With ink and quill, he shaped the dreams,
Of angels’ whispers and moonlit streams.

Though shadows claim his earthly frame,
His words ignite an eternal flame,
A legacy of truth and grace,
Forever etched in time and space.

So rest, dear Blake, in peace profound,
Your echoes in the heart resound,
A gentle soul, now free from strife,
To realms of endless, boundless life.