In the quiet fields where words once bloomed,
A gentle voice now whispers through the trees,
The echoes of a poet’s heart presumed,
To linger soft in every passing breeze.

From earth to pen, his verses took their flight,
Exploring depths and dreams in simple grace,
With every line he rendered dark to light,
And left a mark no time could dare erase.

Though hands now still, his spirit wanders free,
In every book, in every thought we share,
A legacy of truth in poetry,
That binds us all in understanding rare.

As we remember, tears may gently fall,
Yet in our hearts, his words forever stay,
A beacon bright, a guide, a friend to all,
In Seamus Heaney’s light, we find our way.