The Last Rose of Summer

Tis the last rose of summer,

Left blooming alone,

All her lovely companions

Are faded and gone.

No flowr of her kindred

No rose bud is night

To reflect back her blushes,

to give sigh for sigh.

Ill not leave thee, thou lone one,

To pine on the stern,

Since the lovely are sleeping,

Go, sleep thou with them

Thus kindly Ill scatter

Thy leaves oer the bed,

Where thy mates of the garden

Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow

When friendships decay;

And from loves shining circle

The gems drop away

When true hearts lie witherd

And fond ones are flown

Oh! Who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?