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John Mcdermott
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The Last Rose Of Summer
'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
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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?
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