Here’s an Ae Freislighe, an Irish quatrain with its distinct rhyme scheme (abab), strict syllable count (7 per line), and alternating end rhymes:

The wind, a thief, has fled the glen,
it whispers through the hollowed hills.
The woods stand still, bereft of men,
their echoes drink the night’s cold spills.

The stars ignite in secret code,
a language writ in silver streaks.
The moon keeps watch where shadows goad,
its light a mask on silent peaks.

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