Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone, All her lovely companions Are faded and gone. No flow'r of her kindred No rosebud is nigh To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh.
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stern, Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them
Thus kindly I'll 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 wither'd And fond ones are flow'n Oh! Who would inhabit This bleak world alone?
