How seemly, then, to celebrate the birth
Of one who did no harm to our poor earth,
Created masterpieces by the dozen,
Induled in toilet-humor with his cousin,
And had a pauper’s funeral in the rain,
The like of whom we shall not see again.
W.H. Auden, “Metalogue to the Magic Flute“
This is a bit Manichean for Mozart’s birthday, but it’s an affecting scene.
Here’s one of my favorite movements.