★Thomas Moore
'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone,
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone.
No flow'r of her kindred
No rosebud isnigh
Toreflect back her blushes,
I'll not leave tree, thou lone one,
To oine on the stern,
Since thelovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I'll 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 wither'd,
And fond ones are flow'n
Oh! who world inhabit
This bleak world alone?
by Thomas Moore
© Rakuten Group, Inc.
