Tis the last ros of summer, Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions Are faded and gone;
No flow'r of her kindred, No rose bud is nigh.
To reflect back her bushes, 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'll 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 wither"d, And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit This bleak world alone?