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thomas sabo
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He was studying for an examination for an appointment. "He shall be my
summer gauk," she said; and she took the delicate Flower and laid it in a piece
of scented paper, on which verses were written, beginning with summer gauk and
ending with summer gauk. "My friend, be a winter gauk." She had twitted him with
the summer. Yes, all this was in the verses, and the paper was folded up like a
letter, and the Flower was folded in the letter, too. It was dark around her,
dark as in those days when she lay hidden in the bulb.
It was dark around
her, dark as in those days when she lay hidden in the bulb. The Flower went
forth on her journey, and lay in the post-bag, and was pressed and crushed,
which was not at all pleasant; but that soon came to an end. The journey was
over; the letter was opened, and read by the dear friend. How pleased he was! He
kissed the letter, and it was laid, with its enclosure of verses, in a box, in
which there were many beautiful verses, but all of them without flowers; she was
the first, the only one, as the Sunbeams had called her; and it was a pleasant
thing to think of that.
She had time enough, moreover, to think about
it; she thought of it while the summer passed away, and the long winter went by,
and the summer came again, before she appeared once more. But now the young man
was not pleased at all. He took hold of the letter very roughly, and threw the
verses away, so that the Flower fell on the ground. Flat and faded she certainly
was, but why should she be thrown on the ground? Still, it was better to be here
than in the fire, where the verses and the paper were being burnt to
ashes.
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Par
kujiyoo le vendredi 18 mars 2011
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