I know that this isn t perfect, but it s pretty close.
The ash grove how graceful, how plainly tis speaking
The harp through its playing has language for me.
When-ever the light through its branches is breaking,
A host of kind faces is gazing on me.
The friends from my childhood again are before me
Each step wakes a memory as freely I roam.
With soft whispers laden the leaves rustle oâer me
The ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home.
Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander
When twilight is fading I pensively rove
Or at the bright noon tide in solitude wander
Amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove.
Twas there while the black bird was cheerfully singing
I first met that dear one the joy of my heart
Around us for gladness the blue bells were ringing
But then little thought I how soon we should part.
My lips smile no more, my heart loses lightness;
No dream of the future my spirit can cheer.
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.
