| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
FOLK-SONGS OF ROUMANIA. 319
Let my mother be told in the village there, And my bride in the hut be told, That they must pray with folded hands, With folded hands for me." The soldier is dead — and with folded hands,
His bride and his mother pray. On the field of battle they dug his grave, And red with his life-blood the earth was dyed,
The earth they laid him in. The sun looked down on him there and spake,
" I am content." And flowers bloomed thickly upon his grave, And were glad they blossomed there.
And when the wind in the treetops roared,. The soldier asked from the deep, dark grave, " Did the banner flutter then ? " "Not so, my hero," the wind replied, " The fight is done, but the banner won, Thy comrades of old have borne it hence,
Have borne it in triumph hence." Then the soldier spake from the deep, dark grave :
" I am content." And again he heard the shepherds pass,
And the flocks go wand'ring by, And the soldier asked, " Is the sound I hear,
The sound of the battle's roar ? " And they all replied : " My hero, nay ! Thou art dead, and the fight is o'er, Our country joyful and free." Then the soldier spake from the deep, dark grave : " I am content." |
||