Tis the last rose of summer，

    Left blooming alones；

    All her lovely companions

    Are faded and gone；

    No flower of her kindred，

    No rosebud² is nigh，

    To reflect back her blushes，

    Or give sigh for sigh！

    I'll not leave thee， thou lone¹ one，

    To pine on the stem；

    Since the lovely are sleeping，

    Go sleep thou with them.

    Thus kindly³ I scatter⁴

    Thy leaves o'er the bed

    Where thy mates of the garden

    Lie scentless⁵ and dead.

    So soon may I follow，

    When friendships decay，

    And from lover's shining circle

    The gems⁶ drop away！

    When true hearts lie withered⁷，

    And fond ones are flown，

    Oh！ who would inhabit

    This bleak⁸ world alone？

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