by Marie of Romania
I look back and see visions of my country as for twenty-three years I have known it, peaceful, blooming (…)
I see its humble villages hidden amongst fruit trees, I see the autumn splendour of its forests, (…), I see its noble convents, corners of hidden beauty, treasures of ancient art, I hear the sound of the shepherd’s horn, the sweet complaint of his dittie.
Winter lay over everything like a pall of despair.
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