The Ash Grove by Sarah Brightman

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 joyfully singing,
I first met my 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.


Still grows the bright sunshine o'er valley and mountain,
Still warbles the blackbird his 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.