The Boy and The Angel

The Boy and The Angel 

by Robert Browning

Morning, evening, noon, and night,
" Praise God ! " sang Theocrite.

Then to his poor trade he turned,
Whereby the daily meal was earned.

Hard he labored, long and well;
O'er his work the boy's curls fell.

But ever, at each period,
He stopped and sang, " Praise God!"

Then back again his curls he threw,
And cheerful turned to work anew.

Said Blaise, the listening monk, "Well done;"
I doubt not thou art heard my son :

" As well as if thy voice to-day
Were praising God, the Pope's great way.

" This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome
Praises God from Peter's dome."

Said Theocrite, " Would God that I
Might praise him that great way, and die!"

Night passed, day shone,
And Theocrite was gone.

With God a day endures alway,
A thousand years are but a day.

God said in heaven, " Nor day nor night
Now brings the voice of my delight."

Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth.
Spread his wings and sank to earth;

Entered, in flesh, the empty cell.
Lived there, and played the craftsman well;

And morning, evening, noon and night.
Praised God in place of Theocrite.

And from a boy to youth he grew:
The man put off the stripling's hue:

The man matured and fell away
Into the season of decay:

And ever o'er the trade he bent.
And ever lived on earth content.

(He did God's will; to him, all one
If on the earth or in the sun.)

God said, " A praise is in mine ear;
There is no doubt in it, no fear:

"So sing old worlds, and so
New worlds that from my footstool go.

"Clearer loves sound other ways:
I miss my little human praise."

Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell
The flesh disguise, remained the cell.

'Twas Easter Day: he flew to Rome,
And paused above Saint Peter's dome.

In the tiring-room close by
The greater outer gallery,

With his holy vestments, dight.
Stood the new Pope, Theocrite:

And all his past career
Came back upon him clear,

Since when, a boy, he plied his trade,
Till on his life the sickness weighed;

And in his cell, when death drew near,
An angel in a dream brought cheer:

And rising from the sickness drear,
He grew a priest, and now stood here.

To the East with praise he turned.
And on his sight the angel burned.

"I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell,
I set thee here; I did not well.

"Vainly I left my angel-sphere.
Vain was thy dream of many a year.

" Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped,
Creation's chorus stopped!

" Go back and praise again
The early way while I remain. 

" With that weak voice of our disdain,
Take up creation's pausing strain.

Back to the cell and poor employ:
Resume the craftsman and the boy!"

Theocrite grew old at home;
Gabriel dwelt in Peter's dome.

One vanished as the other died:
They sought God side by side.

Egg Rolling In Washington Over 100 Years Ago...

       March and April in Washington spell for the adult the perfection of a climate which at its best no capital on earth can surpass. Color, fragrance, and an almost indefinable sense that the appropriate necessary mood is one of languid leisure are pervasive. The spring odors and flowers seem suddenly to flood the gardens and lawns. In the tiny six-by-two bed under a bay-window and in the stretches of living green by the river the daffodils have succeeded the crocus; hyacinths and flaring tulips fill the borders, and even the stems in the hedges are full of color. Over every tree there is a smoky veil where the swelling leaf-buds have blurred the winter tracery of bare twigs against the sky, but are not yet heavy enough to cast a shade.

       Only the children seem energetic, especially on Easter  Monday, the great day for Washington babies. Along Pennsylvania Avenue they stream‚ well dressed, nurse-attended darlings mingling with the raggedest little poor children that ever snatched an egg from a market-basket. The wide street looks as if baby-blossom time had come, for there are hundreds of children who on this special afternoon storm the grounds of the White House for their annual egg-rolling. Long ago the sport took place on the terraces below the Capitol, and a visitor to the city then wrote:

       "At first the children sit sedately in long rows; each has brought a basket of gay-colored hard-boiled eggs, and those on the upper terrace send them rolling to the line on the next below, and these pass on the ribbon-like streams to other hundreds at the foot, who scramble for the hopping eggs and hurry panting to the top to start them down again. And as the sport warms those on top who have rolled all the eggs they brought finally roll themselves, shrieking with laughter. Now comes a swirl of curls and ribbons and furbelows, somebody's dainty maid indifferent to bumps and grass stains. A set of boys who started in a line of six with joined hands are trying to come down in somersaults without breaking the chain. On all sides the older folk stand by to watch the games of this infant Carnival which comes to an end only when the children are forced away by fatigue to the point of exhaustion, or by parental order."

       When the games proved too hard a test for the grass on the Capitol terraces. Congress stopped the practice, and the President opened the slope back of the White House. No grown person is admitted unless accompanied by a child, but even under this restriction the annual crowd is great enough to threaten the survival of the event.

This film of babies tossing eggs for Easter was made 

by Thomas Edison, over 100 years ago!

• A Unusual White House Tradition
• The Easter Egg Roll
• More Egg Rolling footage at Thrifty Scissors and see twins at White House egg roll from years gone by...

To Violets

To Violets

by Robbert Herrick

Welcome, maids of honor,

You do bring

In the Spring,

And wait upon her.

She has virgins many.

Fresh and fair ;

Yet you are

More sweet than any.

Y' are the Maiden Posies,

And so graced.

To be placed,

'Fore damask roses.

Yet though thus respected.

By and by

Ye do lie,

Poor girls, neglected.

"Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;
his love endures forever." 1 Chronicles 16:54

May

MAY

by James Gates Percival

I FEEL a newer life in every gale;

The winds, that fan the flowers,

And with their welcome breathings fill the

sail,

Tell of serener hours, --

Of hours that glide unfelt away

Beneath the sky of May.

The spirit of the gentle south- wind calls

From his blue throne of air,

And where his whispering voice in music falls,

Beauty is budding there;

The bright ones of the valley break

Their slumbers, and awake.

The waving verdure rolls along the plain,

And the wide forest weaves.

To welcome back its playful mates again,

A canopy of leaves;

And from its darkening shadow floats

A gush of trembling notes.

Return Of Spring

Die cut of wild roses in pinks.

Return Of Spring

by Piere Ronsard

God shield ye, heralds of the spring.
Ye faithful swallows, fleet of wing,
Houps, cuckoos, nightingales.
Turtles, and every wilder bird,
That make your hundred chirpings heard
Through the green woods and dales.

God shield ye, Easter daisies all.
Fair roses, buds, and blossoms small,
And lie whom erst the gore
Of Ajax and Narciss did print,
Ye wild thyme, anise, balm, and mint,
I welcome ye once more.

God shield ye, bright embroider'd train
Of butterflies, that on the plain.
Of each sweet herblet sip;
And ye, new swarms of bees, that go 
Where the pink flowers and yellow grow.
To kiss them with your lip.

A hundred thousand times I call
A hearty welcome on ye all:
This season how I love--

This merry din on every shore--

For winds and storms, whose sullen roar
Forbade my steps to rove.

Color a Cross With Flowers

 

Description of Coloring Page: cross, lilies, rose, bluebells, flowers

• Learn to draw little toy lambs on wheels . . . 

Don't forget to drag the png. or jpg into a Word Document and enlarge the image as much as possible before printing it folks. If you have a question about this coloring page, just type into the comment box located directly below this post and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can.