The Ash Grove کے بول

Traditional Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander, When twilight is fading, I pensively roam. Or at the, bright noontide in solitude I wander, Amid the dark shades of the lovely Ash Grove. 'Tis while the blackbird is cheerfully singing, Each warbler enchants with it's note from the tree. Ah, then little think I of sorrow or sadness, The Ash Grove , enchanting, spells beauty for me. 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 its leaves rustle o'er me, The Ask Grove, The Ash Grove, alone is my home.