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The last rose of summer
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Tis the last rose of summer,
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Left blooming alone;
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All her lovely companions are faded and gone;
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No flow'r of her kindred,
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No rosebud is nigh
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To reflect back her blushes,
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Or give sigh for sigh.
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I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
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To pine on the stem;
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since the lovely are sleeping,
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Go, sleep thou with them;
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Thus kindly I scatter
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Thy leaves o'er the bed
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Where thy mates of the garden
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Lie senseless and dead.
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So soon may I follow,
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When friendships decay,
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And from love's shining circle
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The gems drop away!
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When true hearts lie wither'd,
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And fond ones are flown,
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Oh! who would inhabit
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This bleak world alone?
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The last rose of summer
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| Sarah Brightman |
