The Ash Grove

Ye echoes, O tell me, where is the sweet maiden? “She sleeps 'neath the green turf, down by the Ash grove.” Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander When twilight is falling, I pensively rove; Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander Amid the dark shades of the lonely Ash grove, 'T was 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 ringing, Ah! then little thought I how soon we should part. “She sleeps 'neath the green turf, down by the Ash grove.” Ye echoes, O tell me, where is the sweet maiden? “She sleeps 'neath the green turf, down by the Ash grove.” Still glows the bright sunshine o'er valley and mountain; Still warbles the blackbird its note from the tree; Still trembles the moonbeam on streamlet and fountain; But what are the beauties of nature to me? With sorrow, deep sorrow, my bosom is laden; All day I go mourning in search of my love. Ye echoes, O tell me, where is the sweet maiden? “She sleeps 'neath the green turf, down by the Ash grove.” “She sleeps 'neath the green turf, down by the Ash grove.”