Spring
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Spring
SPRING
BY HOVHANNES HOVHANNESSIAN
(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?
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