Indeed, many of the greatest works of art would never have been created if their authors had possessed a keen sense of humor. Generally, however, Schumann did not make this mistake. In nearly every other one of the _Dichterliebe_ songs he found music which was as gossamer, as little fundamental, as Heine’s words. To some students they may seem at first cold and pedantic. Certainly they do not draw their greatness from melodic charm. Merely as melodies, few of these songs would have lived to this day. Undoubtedly their first appeal is a technical one--to the musical theorist and the pianist as well as to the singer. But this is by no means to say that they lack poetry. It is merely that their poetry is concealed and reveals itself only to him who has mastered and understood their finer technical appeal. Take, for instance, the ninth song, _Das ist ein Flöten und Geigen_ (‘I hear the flutes and violins’). The rejected lover hears from a distance the orchestra playing for dancing at the wedding of his beloved. The accompaniment is a waltz rhythm, with repeated notes deftly inserted to suggest perhaps the trumpets of the band. The waltz is steady and continuous. It has none of the sensuous softness, none of the simplicity and balance of phrase which we are accustomed to in popular waltzes. It tinkles on continuously, without an opportunity to draw a breath--and hence seems at first glance aimless. Instead of the engaging warmth we expect from waltzes, it gives a chilling effect. And that, of course, is exactly the effect it had on the rejected lover. It is a tinkly, monotonous waltz, perhaps heard through the winter air. The voice has a little half melodic, half declamatory complaint, but it seems almost independent of the piano part. When the voice rests that waltz is still going on, throbbing, monotonous. Now, any indifferent pianist will make a sorry affair of this accompaniment. It demands the most delicate and exact finger work, the nicest regard for rhythm, the most delicate modulating of tone power. It must be played almost without pedal, and it reveals instantly any slip in the pianist’s technique. It might almost be published independently as a piano étude. The singer must deliver his part with great delicacy of diction and achieve expression on the most limited scale. The piece has no contrasts. It is so closely bound together that a single omission of a note will spoil the whole design. Decidedly this is not an interesting song to a bad musician. Every detail is a difficulty. If he cannot master it, it remains to him cold and austere. But to him who can master it, it becomes a rare delight. Each technical difficulty becomes an expressive quality; the austerity becomes only poetry more delicately refined. The whole is a challenge to the taste of the singer and the accompanist. The song, within its limits, is without a flaw.