| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
58 IRISH MELODIES.
'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,
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 / 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 ? |
||