Beneath the twilight’s silent veil,
The Emerald Isle whispers tales,
Of souls departed, softly weep,
In shadows where the memories sleep.

The misty moors, the ancient stones,
Echo whispers, mournful tones,
Of lives once bright, now shadows cast,
In Ireland’s heart, they breathe their last.

The winds that sweep the rolling hills,
Carry tales of forgotten thrills,
Of laughter lost, of love once pure,
Now shadows in the green demure.

In every glen, in every stream,
Lies a memory, a broken dream,
But in the sorrow, hope does gleam,
For in the shadows, hearts redeem.