14
ARMENIAN POEMS.
As many thoughts are in my mind
As wavelets o'er thee roam;
As many wounds are in my heart
As thou hast flakes of foam.
As wavelets o'er thee roam;
As many wounds are in my heart
As thou hast flakes of foam.
But if heaven's constellations all
Should drop into thy breast,
Thou still wouldst not be like my soul,—
A flame-sea without rest.
Should drop into thy breast,
Thou still wouldst not be like my soul,—
A flame-sea without rest.
There, when the air and thou are calm,
The clouds let fall no showers;
The stars that rise there do not set,
And fadeless are the flowers.
The clouds let fall no showers;
The stars that rise there do not set,
And fadeless are the flowers.
Thou art my queen, O little lake!
For e'en when ripples thrill
Thy surface, in thy quivering depths
Thou hold'st me, trembling, still.
For e'en when ripples thrill
Thy surface, in thy quivering depths
Thou hold'st me, trembling, still.
Full many have rejected me:
"What has he but his lyre?"
"He trembles, and his face is pale;
His life must soon expire!"
"What has he but his lyre?"
"He trembles, and his face is pale;
His life must soon expire!"
None said, "Poor child, why pines he thus?
If he beloved should be,
Haply he might not die, but live,—
Live, and grow fair to see."
If he beloved should be,
Haply he might not die, but live,—
Live, and grow fair to see."
