 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
ON MOZART, WHO LIVED IN NEGLECT, AND DIED IN POVERTY.
O Genius, waiting in the courts of kingsWith menials, who oft higher wages get,
As if thou, and not they, incur'dst the debt:
As if thy works sublime were but playthings
T' amuse an idle hour, and the strings,
On which thou dost all harmony beget,
And to the music of Creation set,
Were but a common fiddler's offerings!
Alas for thee: thou, who should'st eat the bread
Of Immortality, when thus constrained
To pick the crumbs that fall where fools have fed!
Thou, who wert made to utter things ordained,
To whom the world doth listen—whom, when dead,
It worships, though when living it disdained!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |