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'Tis like the birthday of the world,
When earth was born in bloom;
The light is made of many dyes,
The air is all perfume:
There's crimson buds, and white and blue,
The very rainbow showers
Have turned to blossoms where they fell,
And sown the earth with flowers.
(Thomas Hood)

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I'll rest me in this sheltered bower,
And look upon the clear blue sky
That smiles upon me through the trees,
Which stand so thick clustering by;

And view their green and glossy leaves,
All glistening in the sunshine fair;
And list the rustling of their boughs,
So softly whispering through the air.
(Anne Bronte - from The Arbour)

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A Tree Sculpture
Thanks to http://www.popgive.com

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One day a friend called on Michelangelo and found him busy at the final stages of a statue he had been working on.

A week or so later he returned and, finding the sculptor at the same task, said “It appears that you have been idle since I was last here.”

“Indeed, no,” was the answer, “I’ve retouched this part, I’ve polished that part, I’ve softened this feature, I’ve brought out that muscle and I’ve given more expression to the lower lip.”

“But surely all these things are just trifles?” said his friend.

“Perhaps so,” Michelangelo replied, “but trifles make perfection and perfection is no trifle.”

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Thanks to bladette 1 for this video



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Namasté