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sit forever under the shadows — silver-tressed and ancient — calmly weaving their flowers into rainbow-tinted gifts for youth and beauty.

And I, gazing upon them impassibly weaving the bright blossoms together, dream of the ancient Norns of Scandinavian legends —

Weaving the warp and woof of human destinies; — measuring terms of life as the stems of flowers are measured; —

Mystically mingling Evil with Good; Joy with Sorrow; Love with Grief; — tints of Passion with tints of Melancholy, — even as in a bouquet the hues of a hundred flowers are blended into one rich design.

Evanescent as the beauty of Woman