The Last Rose of Summer

‘Tis the last rose of Summer,

   Left blooming alone;

All her lovely companions

   Are faded and gone;

No flower of her kindred,

   No rose-bud is nigh,

To reflect back her blushes

   Or give sigh for sigh!

I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one,

   To pine on the stem;

Since the lovely are sleeping,

   Go sleep thou with them.

Thus kindly I scatter

   Thy leaves o’er the bed

Where thy mates of the garden

   Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,

   When friendships decay,

And from Love’s shining circle

   The gems drop away!

When true hearts lie withered,

   And fond ones are flown,

Oh! who would inhabit

   This bleak world alone?