Armenian Folk-Song--The Stork.

Welcome, O truant stork!     And where have you been so long?     And do you bring that grace of spring     That filleth my heart with song?     Descend upon my roof--     Bide on this ash content;     I would have you know what cruel woe     Befell me when you went.     All up in the moody sky     (A shifting threat o'er head!)     They were breaking the snow and bidding it go     Cover the beautiful dead.     Came snow on garden spot,     Came snow on mere and wold,     Came the withering breath of white robed death,     And the once warm earth was cold.     Stork, the tender rose tree,     That bloometh when you are here,     Trembled and sighed like a waiting bride--     Then drooped on a virgin bier.     But the brook that hath seen you come     Leaps forth with a hearty shout,     And the crocus peeps from the bed where it sleeps     To know what the noise is about.     Welcome, O honest friend!     And bide on my roof content;     For my heart would sing of the grace of spring,     When the winter of woe is spent.