To Nannette Falk-Auerbach

Oft as I hear thee, wrapt in heavenly art, The massive message of Beethoven tell With thy ten fingers to the people's heart As 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."