'Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone, All her lovely companions Are faded and gone; No flower 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 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 wither'd And fond ones are flown, Oh, who would inhabit This bleak world alone?
