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

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 flow'n

Oh! Who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?