down yonder green valley, where streamlets meander,
It's a beautiful day, the sun shining high in the blue, blue sky, its rays descending on a pretty shade of pink-if it did not belong to a boy with onyx eyes and toothy grins.
when twilight is fading I pensively rove
As time passes the sun begins to set, leaving the sky in an exotic myriad of colors like a kaleidoscope elegantly dancing across the leaves of the ash trees. He takes off his coat, a long, black burden, and tucks it around his arm.
or at the bright noontide in solitude wander,
He tugs at his suspenders nervously as if he were about to meet someone, but who would ever walk amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove?
't was there, while the blackbird was cheerfully singing,
The sound of a-what, nightingale?-reaches his ears. Blame it on his father who never taught him the song of birds.
Then he sees the source of the tune.
I first met that dear one, the joy of my heart!
It's a girl, with blonde locks splaying around her shoulders. She's placed on a log like a delicate doll, clad in a white dress that ends above her knees, rid of any bruises and scratches. He moves over, his boots stepping on crinkling leaves in the autumn, and she hears the impure sound. Her eyes are chestnut brown, in which he leans over, picks a chestnut off the ground, and takes her hand. She is not the least scared, but rather shining when he places the nut in the heart of her palm.
around us for gladness the bluebells were ringing,
She gets up and brushes her silken sleeves which are pure of impurities, and takes his hand. Her feet are bare, and as he intertwines her fingers in his, he could already hear the church bells ringing in his ears...
ah! then little thought I how soon we should part.
"until death do us part, eh, Luce?"
.
still glows the bright sunshine o'er valley and mountain,
He makes his way down to the ash grove again, his shoes snapping twigs and branches as he sets off in a brisk trot.
still warbles the blackbird its note from the tree;
He is dressed in black today, which clashes silently with the array of hues in the evening sky. The sound of the blackbird, as that was what it was, echoes from the trees.
still trembles the moonbeam on streamlet and fountain,
The clear and pristine water flows beneath his feet as he crosses the river, but no beautiful sound could rouse him from his mourning.
but what are the beauties of nature to me?
Except her voice.
with sorrow, deep sorrow, my bosom is laden,
He couldn't imagine, really; that leaving her for a week or so would bring this much pain. He stops before a familiar log and a tree standing beside, and on that tree were the carved initials ND + LH.
all day I go mourning in search of my love;
He lays the bouquet of wildflowers he has picked in the valley in front of the tree, stooping lowly before getting up with tears in his eyes.
ye echoes, oh, tell me, where is the sweet maiden?
The answers from the nearby villagers echoes through his mind, and his brain nearly bursts with the painful thoughts as much as his heart does.
"she sleeps, 'neath the green turf down by the ash grove.
Short and bittersweet; that wraps up the end. I suggest you be mesmerized by Laura Wright after the one-shot. Inspired slightly by momodrops' 'goldilocks' and 'berry locks'!
I joined this kid's choir two years ago and this song happened to resurface in my mind because the story was memorable. 'The Ash Grove' is actually a Welsh folk song about a sailor's love for a girl who dies in a grove full of ash trees. Only in here I made Natsu a commoner, and Lucy a maiden. Basically.
More coming soon!
-Kaya-chan.
