Thomas Moore (1779-1852) TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER TIS - TopicsExpress



          

Thomas Moore (1779-1852) TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER 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. Ill 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 oer the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow, When friendships decay, And from Loves shining circle The gems drop away. When true hearts lie witherd, And fond ones are flown, Oh ! who would inhabit This bleak world alone ?
Posted on: Tue, 02 Sep 2014 05:10:50 +0000

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