The Last Rose of Summer

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This is a very famous poem and song composed by the Irish poet Thomas Moore in 1805. I have merely added the fourth stanza below to give it a sense of completion.



Thomas Moore (1779 May 28-1852 Feb 25)

'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone ;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone ;
No flower of her kindred,
No rose-bud 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 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 flown,
Oh ! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone ?


She will bloom now forever,

    never wither nor fall,

in the memory of that which

    hath created us all.

She'll exude her lovely sweetness

    in the aether without cease

and dance with her loved ones

    in eternal peace.


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