On this day in 1770 the German composer and musician Ludwig van Beethoven was born. Along with Mozart and Bach he bestrides the world of music. The two great men are said to have met once in Vienna when Beethoven, then aged 16, came to visit. Mozart, aged 30, was in a bad mood and did not relish having to stop work to listen to a young prodigy. “Play something,” he told Beethoven. Beethoven played the opening of Mozart’s C minor Piano Concerto. “Not that,” said Mozart. “Anybody can play that. Play something of your own.” Beethoven did. Whereupon Mozart called to his wife Constanze: “Stanzi, Stanzi, watch out for that boy. One day he will give the world something to talk about.” Beethoven died aged 56, almost totally deaf, of complications that may have been alcohol related. My poem today is Emily Dickinson’s strange Better Than Music:

Better – than Music! For I – who heard it –
I was used – to the Birds – before –
This – was different –’Twas Translation –
Of all tunes I knew – and more –
‘Twasn’t contained – like other stanza –
No one could play it – the second time –
But the Composer – perfect Mozart –
Perish with him – that Keyless Rhyme!
So – Children – told how Brooks in Eden –
Bubbled a better – Melody –

Not such a strain – the Church – baptizes –
When the last Saint – goes up the Aisles –
Not such a stanza splits the silence –
When the Redemption strikes her Bells –
Let me not spill – its smallest cadence –
Humming – for promise – when alone –
Humming – until my faint Rehearsal –
Drop into tune – around the Throne –

Today I give thanks for geniuses like Beethoven.