Tis the last rose of summer blooming all alone, All her lovely Are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, No rose is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, And give sigh for sigh.
I’ll not thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem. Since lovely are sleeping, sleep now with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o’er bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie and dead.
So soon may I follow When friendships And from love’s shining circle The gems drop away! true hearts lie withered And fond ones are flown Oh! Who would inhabit This bleak world alone?