Viola

In the hush of evening’s amber glow,
A viola sighs, its voice aglow—
Rich and warm, a velvet tone,
Whispering tales the strings have known.

Bow caresses horsehair, soft and low,
Drawing forth a mellow flow,
Each note a sigh of rose‑tinged dusk,
A muted song the dusk may trust.

From chamber halls to garden shade,
Its timbre lingers, deep and staid,
A voice that sings of bygone days,
In British air, in quiet praise.

So let the viola’s tender sound
Resonate where peace is found,
A humble instrument, yet true,
Painting colour in the evening’s hue.