Max Reger wrote in counterpoint
As if by instinct taught,
Combining it with harmonies,
Abstruse and overwrought.
Max Reger wrote in harmonies
Of prodigal excess,
Combining it with counterpoint
Configured to impress.
His dense and crabbéd textures were
His way of feeling free,
And likewise straying far and wide
From any chosen key.
The Germans like his sort of thing,
Flamboyant, yet severe --
It’s heavy, solid, and well made,
Like sausages and beer.
To Germans he’s canonical,
A master with the best,
For others, Reger’s menu
Is less easy to digest.
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