Show RAISSA AN ARMENIAN GONG I took a rose to my bosom A rose to my bridalbed I said She rill turn to woman When all her kin lie dead I gave her a silken pillow ranged deep with golden thread Alas alas Ralssa my rose Was never so fair a woman As never to red a rose Her hair was black as a birds wing Her bosom mocked the snoJs I sang her Jongs no sweeter sonrs The wandering hillwind knows Alas alas Ralssa my rose Winter deflowrred the summer dbut And every rose but bhe Died and the earth weighed on them And snow upon their tree Raissa tired of my warm hearth And fain would with them be Alas alas Raissa my rose Before death stole upon her Lying upon my bed She cried upon her sster The white rose that was dead And the yellow rose her lover She wailed his golden elAnd el-And cursed my hands that held her back And the silver ring that wed I Alas alas Raissa my rose thats dead I Nora Hopper I |