Frederick Edward Weatherly (4 October 1848 – 7 September 1929) was an English songwriter and poet.
Born: October 4th, 1848
Died: September 7th, 1929
Categories: English poets, Songwriters, 1920s deaths
Quotes: 7 sourced quotes total
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M R Turner & A Miall, The Edwardian Song Book (Methuen, 1982) ISBN 0 413 49790 9
Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling From glen to glen, and down the mountain side, The summer's gone, and all the roses falling, It's you, it's you must go, and I must bide.
And once again the scene was chang’d, New earth there seem’d to be, I saw the Holy City Beside the tideless sea; The light of God was on its streets, The gates were open wide, And all who would might enter, And no one was denied. No need of moon or stars by night, Or sun to shine by day, It was the new Jerusalem, That would not pass away.
I have knelt in the mighty temples, But the dumb gods make no sign; They cannot speak to my spirit, As thy soul speaks to mine.
I stand in a land of roses, But I dream of a land of snow, Where you and I were happy, In the years of long ago.
Oh, we'm come up from Somerset, Where the cider apples grow, We'm come to see your Majesty, An' how the world do go. And when you're wanting anyone, If you'll kindly let us know, We'll all come up from Somerset, Because we loves you so!
Roses are shining in Picardy In the hush of the silver dew; Roses are flowering in Picardy But there's never a rose like you. And the roses will die with the summer time And our roads may be far apart, But there's one rose that dies not in Picardy; 'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart.