'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

Where thy mates of the garden

Lie scentless and dead