In halls where echoes softly dance,
The gentle strings begin their play,
A symphony of time’s romance,
Guiding souls in warm array.

The maestro’s hand, with tender grace,
Conducts the air, a flowing stream,
Each note a brushstroke to embrace,
A vivid world of dreams unseen.

Marble columns watch in silence,
As melodies weave through the night,
The past and present find alliance,
In harmonies of purest light.

In every chord, a story spun,
Of grandeur, love, and fleeting fears,
The Classical Era’s journey begun,
Its legacy through endless years.