The Ash Grove

The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly it is speaking

The harp through it playing has language for me.

Whenever the light through its branches is breaking,

The friends of my childhood again are before me

Each step wakes a memory as freely I roam.

With soft whispers laden the leaves rustle o’er me

The ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home.

Down yonder green meadow where streamlets meander

When twilight is fading I pensively rove

Or in the bright noontide in solitude wander

Amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove.

I first met my dear one, the joy of my heart

Around us for gladness the bluebells were ringing

The ash grove, the ash grove that sheltered my home.

My lips smile no more, my heart loses its lightness;

I only can brood on the past and its brightness

The dear ones I long for again gather here.

From ev'ry dark nook they press forward to meet me;

I lift up my eyes to the broad leafy dome,

And others are there, looking downward to greet me

The ash grove, the ash grove, again is my home.

The ash grove is my home.