Uploaded on October 4, 2011
‘Tis the last rose of Summer,
left blooming alone;
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 Love’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?
—Thomas Moore
The Giant Book of Poetry
edited by William H. Roetzheim
10.04.2023: I don’t what happened to that rosebush. It must have gotten lost during the big front yard remodel of 2021.