The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly it is 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.
Down yonder green meadow  where streamlets meander
When twilight is fading I pensively rove
Or in the bright noontide in solitude wander
Amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove.
‘Twas there while the blackbird was cheerfully singing
I first met my dear one, the joy of my heart
Around us for gladness the bluebells were ringing
The ash grove, the ash grove that sheltered 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 dear ones I long for again gather here.
From ev'ry 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, again is my home.
The ash grove is my home.