The Last Rose of Summer
Thomas Moore, 1813
Thomas Moore’s song of the last rose left blooming when all its companions have faded, and of the loneliness of outliving those we love.
’Tis the last rose of summerLeft blooming alone;All her lovely companionsAre 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 scatterThy leaves o’er the bedWhere thy mates of the gardenLie scentless and dead.
So soon may I follow,When friendships decay,And from Love’s shining circleThe gems drop away.When true hearts lie withered,And fond ones are flown,O! who would inhabitThis bleak world alone?