FRÉDÉRIC FRANÇOIS CHOPIN
[Born at Zelazowa-Wola, near Warsaw, Poland—1809-1849.]
Though French blood flowed in Chopin's veins
His music was of Polish strains
As he was born in a Polish town,
Which for its name should win renown;
And Zelazowa-Wola stood
Above all cities great and good
In favor with great Chopin who
Was to his birthplace ever true.
When scarcely eight great Fame began
To court him ere he was a man.
But Fate was cruel as well as kind.
In love affairs he did not find
The comfort that his great soul sought
And which to him could have been brought
By only one, a lady wise,
George Sand, with "hazel, big cow eyes."
Oft when we hear his waltzes sweet,
"Come dance, come dance," call to our feet
'Tis hard indeed for us to think
That Chopin oft stood on the brink
Of dreadful Melancholy's lair,
Where in great anguish and despair,
So sick in body, mind and soul,
With only Death as his sure goal,
Sweet and lively airs he wrote
And filled with joy his every note.
For ten long years the white plague sought
To take his life—for health he fought,
But when his sweetheart left his side
He ceased his fight and soon he died.