The Ash Grove

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 o’er 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.