Once upon a time I wrote "Unsung Symphony"

But there was a symphony before the one above, and it went like this:

The hall is dim and hearth is cold

The dusty stones are cracked and old

No music fair rings in the air

No lamps are lit – no tales are told.

The lofty rafters creak and groan

As through the crackéd stones doth moan

A windy breath that sings of death

And grieves for songs forever gone.

Of heroes tall in glitt’ring mail

And decked in gems to make stars pale;

Of journeys long and battles won

Through many a great and glorious tale;

Of these and more when days were young

And tapestries were wove and hung;

Of heroes bold the harpers told

But now, alas, they go unsung.

The hall is gray and hearth is bare,

A sadness lingers in the air.

All harps unstrung, all songs unsung

As if they never had been there.