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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=506353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Boy And the Angel, The</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Morning, evening, noon and night,<br>``Praise God!; sang Theocrite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then to his poor trade he turned,<br>Whereby the daily meal was earned.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hard he laboured, long and well;<br>O'er his work the boy's curls fell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But ever, at each period,<br>He stopped and sang, ``Praise God!''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then back again his curls he threw,<br>And cheerful turned to work anew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Said Blaise, the listening monk, ``Well done;<br>``I doubt not thou art heard, my son:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">``As well as if thy voice to-day<br>``Were praising God, the Pope's great way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">``This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome<br>``Praises God from Peter's dome.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Said Theocrite, ``Would God that I<br>``Might praise him, that great way, and die!''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Night passed, day shone,<br>And Theocrite was gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With God a day endures alway,<br>A thousand years are but a day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God said in heaven, ``Nor day nor night<br>``Now brings the voice of my delight.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth,<br>Spread his wings and sank to earth;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Entered, in flesh, the empty cell,<br>Lived there, and played the craftsman well;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And morning, evening, noon and night,<br>Praised God in place of Theocrite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And from a boy, to youth he grew:<br>The man put off the stripling's hue:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The man matured and fell away<br>Into the season of decay:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And ever o'er the trade he bent,<br>And ever lived on earth content.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(He did God's will; to him, all one<br>If on the earth or in the sun.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God said, ``A praise is in mine ear;<br>``There is no doubt in it, no fear:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">``So sing old worlds, and so<br>``New worlds that from my footstool go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">``Clearer loves sound other ways:<br>``I miss my little human praise.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell<br>The flesh disguise, remained the cell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas Easter Day: he flew to Rome,<br>And paused above Saint Peter's dome.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the tiring-room close by<br>The great outer gallery,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With his holy vestments dight,<br>Stood the new Pope, Theocrite:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And all his past career<br>Came back upon him clear,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Since when, a boy, he plied his trade,<br>Till on his life the sickness weighed;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in his cell, when death drew near,<br>An angel in a dream brought cheer:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And rising from the sickness drear<br>He grew a priest, and now stood here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To the East with praise he turned,<br>And on his sight the angel burned.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">``I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell<br>``And set thee here; I did not well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">``Vainly I left my angel-sphere,<br>``Vain was thy dream of many a year.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">``Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped---<br>``Creation's chorus stopped!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">``Go back and praise again<br>``The early way, while I remain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">``With that weak voice of our disdain,<br>``Take up creation's pausing strain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">``Back to the cell and poor employ:<br>``Resume the craftsman and the boy!''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Theocrite grew old at home;<br>A new Pope dwelt in Peter's dome.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One vanished as the other died:<br>They sought God side by side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Browning">Robert Browning</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=506353" data-title="Boy And the Angel, The de Robert Browning" data-description="Morning, evening, noon and night,
``Praise God!; sang Theocrite.

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

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

But ever, at each period,
He stopped and ..."></div>
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