The New Generation Poem by Raphael Patkanian

WHEN the mother, with sore travail,
To the world a man-child gives,
Let a sharp sword from his father
Be the first gift he receives.
As he grows, instead of playthings,
Toys for childish sport and game,
Let his father give him, rather,
A good gun, of deadly aim.
When his time is come for schooling,
Let him to the sword give heed;
Teach him first to wield his weapon;
After, let him learn to read.
Skill of reading, craft of writing,
Is a useful thing and good;
But at the examinations
Ask him first, ' Canst thou shed blood ?
Hope ye in no other manner
Poor Armenia to save.
Ill the beggar’s part beseemeth
Independent men and brave.