Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - Vadstene.
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was one of his booted legs through it, and so
was the other leg, and then half of the Professor
himself – that part where the head does not sit;
and as the house had no ceiling, his legs hovered
right over the old dame’s head, and that in
very close contact. But now the roof is again
whole; the fresh grass grows where learning
sank; the little lamb bleats up there, and the
old dame stands beneath, in the low doorway,
with folded hands, with a smile on her mouth,
rich in remembrances, legends and songs, rich
in her only lamb on which the cherry-tree strews
its flower-blossoms in the warm swing sun.
As a background to this picture lies the
Vettern – the bottomless lake as the commonalty
believe – with its transparent water, its sea-like
waves, and in calm, with "Hegring," or fata
morgana on its steel-like surface. We see
Vadstene palace and town, "the city of the
dead," as a Swedish author has called it –
Sweden’s Herculaneum, reminiscence’s city.
The grass-turf house must be our box, whence
we see the rich mementos pass before us –
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