Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | September 1, 2008

POEM OF THE DAY: ‘Tis the Last Rose of Summer

by Thomas Moore (1779 – 1852).


 ‘Tis 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,                                 5

No rosebud is nigh,

To reflect back her blushes,

To give sigh for sigh.


I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one!

To pine on the stem;                                        10

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                   15

Lie scentless and dead.


So soon may I follow,

When friendships decay,

From Love’s shining circle

The gems drop away.                                      20

When true hearts lie withered

And fond ones are flown,

Oh! who would inhabit,

This bleak world alone?



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