Organ

In the vaulted hush of stone‑clad nave,
A pipe‑organ sighs, its breath of bronze and pine,
Each stop a whisper, each rank a wave
Of sound that lifts the soul toward the divine.

Fingers dance on ivory‑kissed keys,
Drawing forth a torrent, bold yet tender,
Notes entwine like ancient trees,
Rooted deep in centuries of splendour.

The bellows breathe, a steady, solemn tide,
While stained‑glass paints the music in coloured light,
And every chord, with reverence tied,
Echoes where the sacred and the secular unite.

So let the organ’s voice proclaim,
In British halls, a timeless flame.