Dugald MacTaggart (2)/The last rose of summer

THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER.

'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone,
All its lovely companions are faded and gone;
No flow'r of its kindred, no rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back its blushes, or heave 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 lye scentless and dead.

So, soon may I follow when friendships decay,
And from love's shining circle the gems drop away;
When true hearts are wither'd, and fond ones are flown,
O who would inhabit this bleak world alone.

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