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176 LETTERS.
mission to read all that Geijer has written, and promises to
invite him, in order to have a chat with him over a cup of
tea. She goes away, and the nieces continue their conver-
sation for a while; get into ecstasies at Geijer’s words
about the aim of education, which words I recite; they
wish to thank him for so much good; get suddenly the
sublime idea of presenting him with the wreath which they
had bound in the morning, and I exclaim, “ Let us imag-
ine that he is now sitting here before us.” We go to him
with the wreath, and say to him (here we went up to him,
and I recited the following verses) : —
Oh, dear to every Swedish heart, , -
Thou who didst thy “ Memorials” write
Tn every spirit pure and bright;
What wisdom do thy lips impart!
Laurels thou hast for all true worth,
For every pain sweet melody,
For dissonances, harmony
From some far brighter home than earth.
On Swedish annals thou hast thrown
Fresh lustre; fame on thee she showers:
Thou deck’st her homes with fairest flowers,
Accept from us this floral crown.
When History on her varied pages
Has graven deep thy honored name,
When centuries have borne its fame
To the dim shores of future ages,
F’en then thy strains melodious sung
In peaceful homes, shall charm the ear,
Thy songs call forth full many a tear,
Thy name be blest by many a tongue.
With a trembling voice I repeated the last lines. I was
moved, and so was Geijer; so were we, in fact, all of us.
When I had finished, he put his hands upon my head and
kissed my forehead; so he did also with Agatha. How
amiable and how full of life he was afterwards! He played
some exquisitely beautiful capricios on the piano, with so
much fire, with so much genius, and ‘then accompanied
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