The Boy and the Angel

3Then to his poor trade he turned,

4Whereby the daily meal was earned.

5Hard he laboured, long and well;

6O'er his work the boy's curls fell.

7But ever, at each period,

8He stopped and sang, "Praise God!"

9Then back again his curls he threw,

10And cheerful turned to work anew.

11Said Blaise, the listening monk, "Well done;

12I doubt not thou art heard, my son:

13"As well as if thy voice to-day

14Were praising God, the Pope's great way.

15"This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome

16Praises God from Peter's dome."

17Said Theocrite, "Would God that I

18Might praise Him that great way, and die!"

19Night passed, day shone,

20And Theocrite was gone.

21With God a day endures alway,

22A thousand years are but a day.

23God said in heaven, "Nor day nor night

24Now brings the voice of my delight."

25Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth,

26Spread his wings and sank to earth;

27Entered, in flesh, the empty cell,

28Lived there, and played the craftsman well;

29And morning, evening, noon, and night,

30Praised God in place of Theocrite.

31And from a boy, to youth he grew:

32The man put off the stripling's hue:

33The man matured and fell away

34Into the season of decay:

35And ever o'er the trade he bent,

36And ever lived on earth content.

37(He did God's will; to him, all one

38If on the earth or in the sun.)

39God said, "A praise is in mine ear;

40There is no doubt in it, no fear:

41"So sing old worlds, and so

42New worlds that from my footstool go.

43"Clearer loves sound other ways:

44I miss my little human praise."

45Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell

46The flesh disguise, remained the cell.

47'Twas Easter day: he flew to Rome,

48And paused above Saint Peter's dome.

49In the tiring-room close by

50The great outer gallery,

51With his holy vestments dight,

52Stood the new Pope, Theocrite:

53And all his past career

54Came back upon him clear,

55Since when, a boy, he plied his trade,

56Till on his life the sickness weighed;

57And in his cell, when death drew near,

58An angel in a dream brought cheer:

59And rising from the sickness drear,

60He grew a priest, and now stood here.

61To the East with praise he turned,

62And on his sight the angel burned.

63"I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell,

64And set thee here; I did not well.

65"Vainly I left my angel-sphere,

66Vain was thy dream of many a year,

67"Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped —

68Creation's chorus stopped!

69"Go back and praise again

70The early way, while I remain.

71"With that weak voice of our disdain,

72Take up creation's pausing strain.

73"Back to the cell and poor employ:

74Resume the craftsman and the boy!"

75Theocrite grew old at home;

76A new Pope dwelt in Peter's dome.

77One vanished as the other died:

78They sought God side by side.