Once Wagner was the idol of a girl
steeped early in his “endless melody,”
as storms were slyly starting to unfurl
in Meistersinger-land, her Germany.
When storm troops marched, that world was terror-tossed;
symbol of dread, the fierce Wagnerian sound
of Berchtesgaden signaled holocaust,
a battle cry piercing her underground.
In a new land, she would emerge matured,
at peace one day to know the old elation
hearing the Ring, soaring past pain endured,
singing redemption and conciliation.
At last, she gave her long-withheld applause
to music – pure, unmarred by human flaws.
— Anne Marx, "With Wagner: Through Storm to Calm" (1980)
See also: Bad Wagner Poetry (although I would not place Marx's poem in that category)