  [1815-1892.] By sweet love, the angel's gift, Was Robert Franz inspired To write sweet songs of home and love Of which we're never tired. Since Schubert's time no other man Produced sweet songs so many And for a number of these songs He did not get a penny. Songs two hundred seventy-nine This music genius wrote But ere he died like Beethoven He could not hear a note. And with his right arm paralyzed He could not even play And Liszt for him gave concerts He died in abject poverty, From grief almost insane But left his songs to cheer us And drive away our pain. |
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