Why does a Mozart opera make me weep
But I don’t cry at any other one?
Herr Wagner’s thunderbolts put me to sleep.
Rossini’s laughs preclude a tear-duct run.
I sigh but never cry when Mimi dies.
When Carmen sings her last I maybe sniffle.
Otello’s ending makes me agonize,
But cry? That doesn’t even raise a riffle.
It must be Mozart’s music, not the action,
That turns my eyes to brimming swimming pools.
Involuntary is my heart’s reaction
To notes cascading from the sky like jewels.
What’s more, his Amadeus middle name,
Which means “beloved by God,” leaves me consoled
By heaven’s sound and prompts me to proclaim
The One who lives most high, lifting my soul.
