There were four other songs of mine that Mr. Maitland sang most beautifully that afternoon, “’Tis better to have loved and lost” (Tennyson), “Wer zum ersten Male liebt” (Heine), and two gipsy songs— one Russian and one Hungarian. The Russian song I found in N. Minsky’s French translation of Tolstoi’s play, Le Cadavre Vivant. It is called, “Mon petit lin,” […]