Our Shakespeare play - Much Ado About Nothing - doesn't cease to thrill with a new plot to find out if Claudio truly loved Hero.

Our play takes a turn for the worse as a truly malicious uncle plots against the two who are to be wed!

Hear about the country with salt problems, on Brilliant Mornings, here: https://www.buzzsprout.com/932794/episodes/3311893-friday-from-indus-to-independence.mp3?

Today we also have two wonderful poems about May!  Please see Amblesideonline.org for more excellent poetry selections! We love the poems we have found there!  

Also, we are using https://www.theitalianexperiment.com for our guest language of the term (we have one "guest" language in addition to our second language that we learn year-round).  We recommend their reading of Goldilocks and The Three Bears!

THE SHEEP AND THE PIG

One day a shepherd discovered a fat Pig in the meadow where his Sheep were pastured. He very quickly captured the porker, which squealed at the top of its voice the moment the Shepherd laid his hands on it. You would have thought, to hear the loud squealing, that the Pig was being cruelly hurt. But in spite of its squeals and struggles to escape, the Shepherd tucked his prize under his arm and started off to the butcher's in the market place.

The Sheep in the pasture were much astonished and amused at the Pig's behavior, and followed the Shepherd and his charge to the pasture gate.

"What makes you squeal like that?" asked one of the Sheep. "The Shepherd often catches and carries off one of us. But we should feel very much ashamed to make such a terrible fuss about it like you do."

"That is all very well," replied the Pig, with a squeal and a frantic kick. "When he catches you he is only after your wool. But he wants my bacon! gree-ee-ee!"

It is easy to be brave when there is no danger.

12 Raining, by Amelia Josephine Burr;
       appeared in The Bellman Book of Verse, 1919

Raining, raining,
 All night long;
 Sometimes loud, sometimes soft,
 Just like a song.

There'll be rivers in the gutters
 And lakes along the street.
 It will make our lazy kitty
 Wash his little dirty feet.

The roses will wear diamonds
 Like kings and queens at court;
 But the pansies all get muddy
 Because they are so short.

I'll sail my boat to-morrow
 In wonderful new places,
 But first I'll take my watering-pot
 And wash the pansies' faces.

14 The Prayer Perfect, by James Whitcomb Riley, 1849-1916

Dear Lord! kind Lord!
       Gracious Lord! I pray
 Thou wilt look on all I love,
       Tenderly to-day!
 Weed their hearts of weariness;
       Scatter every care
 Down a wake of angel-wings
       Winnowing the air.

Bring unto the sorrowing
       All release from pain;
 Let the lips of laughter
       Overflow again;
 And with all the needy
       O divide, I pray,
 This vast treasure of content
       That is mine to-day!

A pair of Oxen were drawing a heavily loaded wagon along a miry country road. They had to use all their strength to pull the wagon, but they did not complain.

The Wheels of the wagon were of a different sort. Though the task they had to do was very light compared with that of the Oxen, they creaked and groaned at every turn. The poor Oxen, pulling with all their might to draw the wagon through the deep mud, had their ears filled with the loud complaining of the Wheels. And this, you may well know, made their work so much the harder to endure.

"Silence!" the Oxen cried at last, out of patience. "What have you Wheels to complain about so loudly? We are drawing all the weight, not you, and we are keeping still about it besides."

They complain most who suffer least.

Blowing Bubbles by William Allingham

See the pretty planet!
       Floating sphere!
 Faintest breeze will fan it
       Far or near;

World as light as feather;
       Moonshine rays,
 Rainbow tints together,
       As it plays.

Drooping, sinking, failing,
       Nigh to earth,
 Mounting, whirling, sailing,
       Full of mirth;

Life there, welling, flowing,
       Waving round;
 Pictures coming, going,
       Without sound.

Quick now, be this airy
       Globe repelled!
 Never can the fairy
       Star be held.

Touched, it in a twinkle
       Disappears!
 Leaving but a sprinkle,
       As of tears.

10 My Shadow, by Robert Louis Stevenson

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
 And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
 He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
 And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow--
 Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
 For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
 And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
 And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
 He stays so close behind me, he's a coward you can see;
 I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
 I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
 But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
 Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Written in March, by William Wordsworth

 To March, by Emily Dickinson

Poems:

The Shortest Month, Adeline Whitney

Animal Crackers, Christopher Morley (Songs for a Little House, 1917)

THE ÆSOP FOR CHILDREN, Copyright, 1919, by
Rand McNally & Company

"The Wooing of Helen of the Fair Hands" - from Andrew Lang's Tales of Troy and Greece! 

Find our history podcast at brilliant-mornings.com, where you can also order the history magazine ARTIFACT!