The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly ’tis speaking;
The harp through it playing has language for me,
When ever the light through it’s 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.

Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander,
When twilight is fading I pensively rove,
Or in the bright noontide in solitude wander
Amid the dark spaces of that lonely ash grove.
‘Twas there while the blackbird was cheerfully singing
I first met that dear one, the joy of my heart.
Around us for gladness the bluebells were springing,
The ash grove, the ash grove that sheltered my heart.