Tis the last rose of summer，

    Left blooming alones；

    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.

    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 lover's shining circle

    The gems drop away！

    When true hearts lie withered，

    And fond ones are flown，

    Oh！ who would inhabit

    This bleak world alone？