This the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone,
All her lovely companions
Are faded ans hone.


No flower of her kindred.
No rose bud is night,
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?