In memory of Seamus Heaney

In the emerald fields where legends dwell,
Where ancient whispers enchant the dell,
A poet's pen takes flight, like a lark,
Echoing the spirit of Seamus Heaney's arc.

In softest cadence, his words did flow,
Like rivers meandering, a gentle glow.
He wove the tapestry of Ireland's past,
Unraveling stories that forever last.

Upon the soil, he etched his verse,
Celebrating beauty, life's universe.
The peat-stained earth beneath his feet,
A muse that guided each lyrical feat.

With tender hands, he dug the past,
Unearthing treasures meant to last.
Bog bodies emerged, their secrets unfurled,
Mysteries of history, in a timeless world.

From mossy huts to rural plains,
He painted pictures, erased the stains.
The harrowed earth, the farmer's sweat,
Resilient spirits that would never forget.

Through childhood memories, he did stride,
Telling tales of innocence, side by side.
Ancestral voices whispered in his ear,
Their wisdom guiding, forever near.

The Troubles' shadow cast its shade,
But hope, like embers, never did fade.
He spoke of loss, with poignant grace,
Mending hearts with each tender embrace.

Oh, Seamus Heaney, your pen so keen,
Revealed the unseen, the in-between.
You honored nature's song, its humble voice,
Enlightening hearts with each noble choice.

In words, you wove a tapestry grand,
A poet's legacy, forever in demand.
Your spirit roams these emerald lands,
Inspiring poets, with gifted hands.

In the hush of twilight, we feel your breath,
A whisper in the wind, transcending death.
Seamus Heaney, your poetry divine,
Shall live on, an everlasting sign.