Deaf Beethoven.
His magic fingers wander o’er the keys—1
Silent, alas ! to him for evermore ;2
Though, like wave-music on a sun-kissed shore,3
The tones float up in wondrous melodies.4
O not for him the sense that bears the sound5
Of such sweet chords unto the inmost soul !6
O not for him the solemn thunder-roll7
Pealing, in sterner moments, far around !8
Nor yet for him to hear the plaudits loud :9
Though, turning in the pauses of his theme,10
As one awaking from a soundless dream,11
He sees the passionate gestures of the crowd.12
As an Eolian lyre when winds go by13
Wakes to the unseen airs and straightway sings14
Though all unconscious of its own sweet strings,15
By him unheard, wakes his own melody.16
Or as a forest pine in night’s dim shade,17
Tosses wild arms into the troubled air,18
Wailing in strains that seem almost despair,19
Yet knows not of the moans itself has made.20
Or as a low-voiced stream beneath the moon,21
Singing its midnight monotone unseen ;22
Or as a glistening fall, ’mid leafage green,23
Flooding with melody the woods of June.24
Or as the solemn turret-bell, whose tones25
Strike the dull air as with the beat of Doom,26
While the close-gathered mourners round the tomb27
Strive not to vex the dead with futile moans.28
Yet who shall say that in his soul sublime,29
Lifted so far above the common earth,30
Some inner sense of joy may not have birth,31
Some music all unknown to things of Time ?32
Some melodies which, floating through that soul,33
Up to the spirit world unconscious soar ;34
And, garnered in those realms for evermore,35
May meet him when this earth shall cease to roll ?36
Denied to him the priceless gift to hear37
His own creations. Ah ! what glad surprise38
When on immortal strings those chords shall rise39
Triumphant, as Eternity draws near !40
Greatest of all ! and though his star may shine,41
And earth be filled with gladness through its beams,42
Yet, in God’s ways, a life of sadness seems43
The Nemesis of gifts almost divine.44