Gathering the Roses
Words by: Charles Hamilton Ross
Music by: L. A. Clark
Published by:Len Fleming, NY
1915
Someone is gath'ring our roses,
As they're blooming and blushing today,
someone has loved one's that's sleeping,
And may they be blessed where they lay.
Someone is laying their roses,
Ah! sad falls the tears on the graves;
For who has not loved ones that's sleeping,
The young the old and the brave?
(Chorus)
Someone is gath'ring our roses,
Our beautiful, beautiful roses,
They have faded away and gone for to stay,
Our beautiful, beautiful roses.
Someone is gath'ring our roses,
From the rich and the poor they're the same,
We've all the same love in our bossoms,
God calls with love not the name.
As he goes gath'ring his roses,
For they are his to regain,
He's left us all that is mortal
But the soul is his to reclaim.
(Chorus)
Someone is gath'ring our roses,
Has he raken a rosebud from you,
And left you only what's mortal,
To be kissed by the glist'ning dew?
Then cover their graves with roses,
And the beautiful Red, White and Blue,
So keep your heart true till the finish,
Then the angels will gather us too.
(Chorus)
Has someone taken the roses,
That's tinted our cheeks with a glow,
And left them whitened and wrinkled,
Our hair turned whiter than snow.
Then we know the reaper he cometh,
Although his foot steps seems slow;
But one golden thought's left to brighten,
For to know we are ready to go.
Someone is gath'ring our roses,
Our beautiful, beautiful roses,
They have faded away and gone for to stay,
Our beautiful, beautiful roses.
Long Years Have Passed
By: Charles Hamilton Ross
The News, Alexandria, Ontario
Friday, Jan. 22, 1915
pg. 5, col. 6
Long years have passed since last I parted,
From dear old Glengarry my boyhood home,
From your hay fields and fields of clover,
Far, far away, yes, I have roamed.
Seen the peaks of mighty mountains,
with their crowns of fleecy snow,
Sending water down in torents,
To Refresh the soil below.
Long years have passed since last we parted,
Dear old Glengarry, yes, you and I,
But in my heart you've held a treasure?
And for you it often sighs,
For your rivers, creeks and meadows,
Apple blossoms with their sweet perfume,
And the fields of clover blooming
No wonder that I sigh for home.
Years have passed since last we parted,
But I oftimes think of you,
And every year as I grow older,
Thoughts come to me of long ago,
O, if I could turn time backwards,
And stop the grind of earthly cares,
Once more be kneeling by my mother,
As when she taught me list my prayer.
Your respectfully,
Chas. H. Ross
1690 11th St.
Oakland, California, U.S.A.