To Nannette Falk-Auerbach
Oft as I hear thee, wrapt in heavenly art,The massive message of Beethoven tellWith thy ten fingers to the people’s heartAs if ten tongues told news of heaven and hell,—Gazing on thee, I mark that not alone,Ah, not alone, thou sittest: there, by thee,Beethoven’s self, dear living lord of tone,Doth stand and smile upon thy mastery.Full fain and fatherly his great eyes glow:He says, “From Heaven, my child, I heard thee call(For, where an artist plays, the sky is low):Yea, since my lonesome life did lack love’s all,In death, God gives me thee: thus, quit of pain,Daughter, Nannette! in thee I live again.”
Baltimore, 1878.