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328 FOLK-SONGS OF ROUMANIA.
Thy father cometh home, leave the door open —
Down to the fountain didst thou go, and there Thy wooden pitcher filled, didst thou yet linger Another hour with the full pitcher by thee — I was young, —
And did thy tears make glad thy countenance ? And did thy sleep bring gladness to the night ? And did thy dreams bring gladness to thy sleep ? And didst thou smile even by graves, despite Thy pity for the dead ?
Thy father cometh home, leave the door open
Loved'st thou strawberries and raspberries, Because they are as red as maidens' lips ? Didst thou love thy girdle for its many pearls, The river and the wood, because they lie So close behind the village ?
Didst love the beating of thy heart,
There close beneath thy bodice,
Even though 't were not thy Sunday bodice ?
— Thy father cometh home, leave the door open.
These specimens will give an idea of the charm, the grace, the pathos, and the melody of these Roumanian songs, which are like the breath of wild mountain air, full of the voices of the birds and streams, the wailings of the wind, and the sad plaints of the human hoart. There is scarce a page in the not very voluminous collection which