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Thomas Moore - `Tis The Last Rose of Summer
Work rating: Medium

`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?
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