The Ash Grove Society

Members: 9

The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly 'tis speaking
The wind 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.

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