'TIS 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,
To 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,
From Love's shining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie withered
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit,
This bleak world alone.
Thomas Moore
Irish Poet
1805
Written while in Jenkinstown Park,
County Kilkenny
January 29, 2010
Birthday, 102
Always a fan of poetry and the Irish Tenors, Mom loved the John McDermott version of the Thomas Moore poem set to music.
McDermott would announce that he sang the song for his mother, who had passed away.
Kindle a fond memory! Enjoy!
