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Hayley Westenra Celtic Treasure The Last Rose of Summer ‘Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming all alone, All her lovely companions Are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, No rose bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, And give sigh for sigh. I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem. Since the lovely are sleeping, Go sleep now 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 Oh! Who would inhabit This bleak world alone? |
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