In the golden glow of twilightâs embrace,
Where dreams and reality entwine,
Yeats’ love sings a timeless song,
In the gentle rustle of leaves divine.
Beneath the moon’s soft, silvery gaze,
Hearts converse in a silent dance,
Each word a petal, each sigh a breeze,
In the garden of longing and chance.
The soul’s eternal quest for the unseen,
In whispers of the night it roams,
Seeking solace in the poet’s verse,
Where passion finds its sacred home.
In dreams where the heart finds refuge,
Yeats’ love lingers, forever bright,
A symphony of echoes, tender and true,
In the quiet corners of the night.