Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone,
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone.
No flow’r 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 stern,
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them
Thus kindly I’ll scatter
Thy leaves o’er the bed,