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Home  »  The World’s Best Poetry  »  “’T is the last rose of summer”

Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.

V. Trees: Flowers: Plants

“’T is the last rose of summer”

Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

From “Irish Melodies”

’T IS 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,

O, who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?