Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - Grandmother.
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In the middle of it lies a rose, which is quite
flat and dry; but it is not so pretty as the roses
she has in the glass, yet she smiles the kindliest
to it, nay, even tears come into her eyes!
Why does Grandmother look thus on the
withered flower in the old book? Do you
know why?
Every time that Grandmother’s tears fall on
the withered flower the colours become fresher;
the rose then swells and the whole room is
filled with fragrance; the walls sink as if they
were but mists; and round about, it is the
green, the delightful grove, where the sun
shines between the leaves. And Grandmother –
yes, she is quite young; she is a beautiful girl,
with yellow hair, with round red cheeks, pretty
and charming – no rose is fresher. Yet the eyes,
the mild, blissful eyes, – yes, they are still
Grandmother’s! By her side sits a man,
young and strong: he presents the rose to her
and she smiles. Yet grandmother does not
smile so, – yes; the smile comes, – he is gone.
– Many thoughts and many forms go past!
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