The Last Rose

'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 on the bed
Where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead
Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves on the bed
Where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead