The Ash Grove 

                                  1. Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander, 
                                        When twilight is fading I pensively rove, 
                                       Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander 
                                      Amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove. 
                                    'Tis there where the blackbird is cheerfully singing, 
                                    Each warbler enchants with his note from the tree. 
                                       Ah, then little think I of sorrow or sadness; 
                                      The ash grove enchanting spells beauty for me. 

                                  2. The ash grove how graceful how plainly 'tis speaking, 
                                      The harp thro' it playing has language for me; 
                                     Whenever the light thro' 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 mem'ry as freely I roam; 
                                    With soft whispers laden, its leaves rustle o'er me, 
                                     The ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home.