'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 wither'd

And fond ones are flown,

Oh, who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?