O Master, if immortals suffer aught <br />Of sadness like to ours, and in like sighs <br />And with like overflow of darkened eyes <br />Disburden them, I know not; but methought, <br />What time to day mine ear the utterance caught <br />Whereby in manifold melodious wise <br />Thy heart's unrestful infelicities <br />Rose like a sea with easeless winds distraught, <br />That thine seemed angel's grieving, as of one <br />Strayed somewhere out of heaven, and uttering <br />Lone moan and alien wail: because he hath <br />Failed to remember the remounting path, <br />And singing, weeping, can but weep and sing <br />Ever, through vasts forgotten of the sun.<br /><br />William Watson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beethoven/
