II BEETHOVEN

Betwixt the actual and unseen, alone, Companionless, deaf, in dread solitude Of soul amid the faithless multitude, He lived, and fought with life, and held his own; Knew poverty, and shame which is not shown, Pride, doubt, and secret heart-despair of good,— Insolent praise of men and petty feud: Yet fell not from his purpose, framed and known. For, as a lonely watcher of the night, When all men sleep, sees the tumultuous stars Move forward from the deep in squadrons bright, And notes them, he through this life’s prison bars Heard all night long the spheric music clear Beat on his heart,—and lived that men might hear.