Printed out a woodblock print of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. In reading about him in Classic Composers (Magna Books, 1993), I was surprised to learn he found himself in dire financial straits near the end of his life and was even buried in a common grave.
Came across this poetic tribute to Mozart by Margaret Marshall which was first printed in February, 1926 in Gramophone magazine, and reprinted on their archive site on December 5, 2012 to commemorate the anniversary of Mozart’s passing on December 5, 1791:
A POEM FOR MOZART
A silver shield, swung down the heavy rain,
Blurring that sky where huddled clouds were blown,
Turning Mozart’s five “friends” homeward again,
While he passed to his pauper’s grave alone.
His baby lips a queen had stooped to kiss;
His were the hands that touched the hearts of kings;
The mind transmuting into harmonies
The half-dim fantasies of lovely things
We guard within our hearts, his was that mind.
Over the keys of a tall harpsichord
His fingers, as a child, had strayed, to find
The clear, pure cadences between them stored.
This was Mozart, dying alone at night,
Where music fills the ageing world with light.