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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.
'Twas there while the blackbird was cheerfully singing,
I first met that dear one -- the joy of my heart!
Around as for gladness the bluebells were ringing,
Ah! then little knew I, how soon we would part.
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 wandering in search of my love!
Ye echoes! oh, tell me, where is the sweet maiden?
"She sleeps 'neath the green turf down by the Ash Grove."
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