The Ash Grove

Traditional

The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly ’tis speaking
The harp through it playing has language for me.
Whenever the light through its branches is breaking
A host of kind faces is gazing on me
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
My lips smile no more my heart loses its lightness

No dream of the future my spirit can cheer
I only can brood on the past and its brightness
The dead I have mourned are again living here
From every 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 alone is my home