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memorials from the chronicle of saints, the
chronicle of king and the love songs that still
live with the old dame, who stands in her low
house there, where the lamb crops the grass on
the roof. We hear her, and we see with her
eyes; we go from the grass-turf house up to the
town, to the other grass-turf houses, where poor
women sit and make lace, once the celebrated
work of the rich nuns here in the cloister’s
wealthy time.
How still, solitary and grass-grown are these
streets! We stop by an old wall, mouldygreen
for centuries already. Within it stood the
cloister; now there is but one of its wings
remaining. There, within that now poor garden
still bloom Saint Bridget’s leek, and once
rare flowers. King John and the Abbess, Ana
Gylte, wandered one evening there, and the
King cunningly asked: "If the maidens in the
cloister were never tempted by love?" and the
Abbess answered, as she pointed to a bird that
just then flew over them: "It may happen!
One cannot prevent the bird from flying over
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