Spalshy violins! How your sound is like water
Plashing up with brightness of sunshine to wet string's top
Or plumet to its bottom depths
With flurry of emotion and swallowtail of graceful bird
Like the voice of a beloved heroine
Loved by all.
Your shadow, the viola
Purple and gray as the dappled dusk
In which its voice is lost in encroaching darkness
And misty horizon, through which
Stars shine like sharded pinpoints
Glowing softly through the haze
And the soft-voicedness with which it sings.
Viola and violin sisters
Travel gently and bravely through the world
And cry, in each way, the like blood which burns in each vein
And the like passion which pulses through same flesh.