loved to make his figures move with dancing feet, was
now obliged to walk with crutches. The roses and
lilies of spring were faded now, and instead of the
music of his youth he heard only the sound of harsh,
ungrateful voices, in the flowerless days of poverty
and old age.

There is always something sad too about his
pictures, but through the sadness, if we listen, we
may hear the angel-song, and understand it better if
we have in our minds the prayer which Botticelli
left for us.

`Oh, King of Wings and Lord of Lords, who
alone rulest always in eternity, and who correctest
all our wanderings, giver of melody to the choir
of angels, listen Thou a little to our bitter grief, and
come and rule us, oh Thou highest King, with Thy
love which is so sweet.'



DOMENICO GHlRLANDAIO

Ghirlandaio! what a difficult name that sounds to
our English ears. But it has a very simple meaning,
and when you understand it the difficulty will
vanish.

It all happened in this way. Domenico's father