  [Born in Zwickau, Germany—1810-1856.] To most great music makers The fates have been unkind And in the life of Schumann Few joys we can find Except in the great love Of Clara, his dear wife, Who helped him in his struggles Throughout his married life. He lost the power of playing Through dread paralysis. But Clara said, "Don't worry For nothing you need miss Since you can write sweet lovely airs And I'll play them for you And thus we two together One hundred songs and thirty-eight He wrote in one short year, Inspired by his loving wife Who brought him hope and cheer. And when he died at forty-six And left her very poor With her eight children Clara went Upon a concert tour. And with her wondrous playing Of airs her husband made She earned her bread and butter And glory ne'er to fade, For Schumann's magic music And songs that reach the heart, Showing they are tempered With great Apollo's art. |
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