NEW DARK DAYS.
23
The peasant sows, but never reaps;
He hungers evermore;
He eats his bread in bitterness,
And tastes of anguish sore.
Lo! tears and blood together
Drop from his pallid face;
And these are our own brothers,
Of our own blood and race!
He hungers evermore;
He eats his bread in bitterness,
And tastes of anguish sore.
Lo! tears and blood together
Drop from his pallid face;
And these are our own brothers,
Of our own blood and race!
The forehead pure, the sacred veil
Of the Armenian maid,
Shall rude hands touch, and hell's hot breath
Her innocence invade?
They do it as men crush a flower,
By no compunction stirred;
They slaughter an Armenian
As they would kill a bird.
Of the Armenian maid,
Shall rude hands touch, and hell's hot breath
Her innocence invade?
They do it as men crush a flower,
By no compunction stirred;
They slaughter an Armenian
As they would kill a bird.
O roots of vengeance, heroes' bones,
Who fell of old in fight,
Have ye all crumbled into dust,
Nor sent one shoot to light?
Oh, of that eagle nation
Now trampled by the Koord,
Is nothing left but black-hued crows,
And moles with eyes obscured?
Who fell of old in fight,
Have ye all crumbled into dust,
Nor sent one shoot to light?
Oh, of that eagle nation
Now trampled by the Koord,
Is nothing left but black-hued crows,
And moles with eyes obscured?
Give back our sisters' roses,
Our brothers who have died,
The crosses of our churches,
Our nation's peace and pride!
Our brothers who have died,
The crosses of our churches,
Our nation's peace and pride!
