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- Midsummer
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Midsummer
It was as hot a midsummer as it is to-day when
I am writing. The loveliest season of the year
had come.
This was the time when Sintram, the wicked owner
of Fors foundry, grew frightened and anxious. He
was furious over the conquest light had won over
the hours of darkness. He fretted over the leafy
verdure of the trees and the many-colored carpet
spread over the earth.
Everything was clothed in beauty. The road,
grey and dusty as it was, had its border of flowers,
blue and yellow midsummer flowers, shevril and
birdsfoot trefoil. And when the splendor of the
midsummer day lay over the hills, and the trembling
air carried the ringing of Bro church bells up to
Fors, when the sweet quiet of the hallowed day
reigned över all the land, Sintram rose in wrath.
It seemed to him that God and men had dared
to forget that he existed, and he determined that
he, too, would go to church. All who rejoiced at
the summer weather should see him, Sintram, the
man who loved darkness without a dawn, death
without resurrection, winter without spring!
He put on his wolfskin coat and his thick fur
driving-gloves. He ordered the red horse to be
harnessed to a racing sledge and the sleigh-bells to be
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Project Runeberg, Sun Dec 10 03:55:33 2023
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