The Last Rose of Summer [Poetry]

The Last Rose of SummerThomas Moore - 1779-1852‘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 bedWhere 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? Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.