~'Tis 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 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 withered,

                                    And fond ones are flown,

                                    Oh! who would inhabit

                                    This bleak world alone?

                                    ~Thomas Moore~

                                    Index