| The ash grove how graceful how plainly it’s speaking
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| The harp wind through it playing has language for me Whenever the light through its branches is breaking
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| 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
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| With soft whispers laden its leaves rustle o’er me The ash grove the ash grove again alone is my home
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| Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander
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| When twilight is fading I pensively rove
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| Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander
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| Amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove
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| Twas there while the blackbird was cheerfully singing
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| I first met that dear one the joy of my heart
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| Around us for gladness the bluebells were springing
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| The ash grove the ash grove that sheltered my home
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| My laughter is over my step loses lightness
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| Old countryside measures steal soft on my ears;
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| I only remember the past and its brightness
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| The dear ones I mourn for again gather here
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| From out of the shadows their loving looks greet me And wistfully searching the leafy green dome
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| I find other faces fond bending to greet me The ash grove the ash grove alone is my home |