Thomas Moore

(28 May 1779 – 25 February 1852 / Dublin)

Tis The Last Rose Of Summer - Poem by Thomas Moore

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.

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 wither'd,
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?


Comments about Tis The Last Rose Of Summer by Thomas Moore

  • Ruta Mohapatra (12/28/2017 11:56:00 AM)


    ' When true hearts......world alone'....Liked the stanza (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Okoye Charles Chukwudi (4/23/2012 9:42:00 AM)


    This poem...brought tears to my eyes...i luv it so (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »



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Read poems about / on: rose, flower, alone, summer, sleep, world



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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