Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone,
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone.
No flowr of her kindred
No rose bud is night
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.

Ill not leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on the stern,
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them

Thus kindly Ill scatter
Thy leaves oer the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow
When friendships decay;
And from loves shining circle
The gems drop away
When true hearts lie witherd
And fond ones are flown
Oh! Who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?