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Armenian Legends and Poems [1916] at

p. 20



(Born 1869)

NONE await thy smiling rays;
Whither comest thou, O Spring
None are left to sing thy praise--
Vain thy coming now, O Spring!

All the world is wrapped in gloom,
Earth in blood is weltering:
This year brought us blackest doom--
Whither comest thou, O Spring?

No rose for the nightingale,
No flower within park or dale,
Every face with anguish pale--
Whither comest thou, O Spring?


Next: Cradle Song