Anna Murry - The last rose of summer

It's 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 you thou lone one,
to pine on the stem
since the lovely are sleeping, go sleep thou with them.
Thus the kindly I scatter,
thy leaves o ér 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 fondones are flown,
of, who should in habit this bleak world alone