In the shadowed halls of ancient stone,
Where whispered tales of knights are sown,
The echoes of a bygone age remain,
As rusted armor sings in soft refrain.

The Renaissance dawns with golden light,
Painting frescoes in the endless night,
A rebirth of art and thought anew,
Where dreams like endless rivers flow and grew.

In Baroque’s embrace, the world expands,
With swirling notes from maestro’s hands,
A symphony of passion and desire,
Burning brightly like a funeral pyre.

Yet in each era’s gentle sigh,
The past and future intertwine and fly,
A tapestry of time forever spun,
Beneath the ever-watchful sun.