Verse > Anthologies > William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. > The Book of Georgian Verse
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William Stanley Braithwaite, ed.  The Book of Georgian Verse.  1909.
 
’Tis the Last Rose of Summer
By Thomas Moore (1779–1852)
 
’TIS the last rose of summer
  Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
  Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,        5
  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;        10
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        15
  Lie scentless and dead.
 
So soon may I follow,
  When friendships decay,
And from Love’s shining circle
  The gems drop away.        20
When true hearts lie withered,
  And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
  This bleak world alone?
 
 
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