Classic Poem

Ode XXV.

'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 come 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 withered,
And fond enes are flown,
Oh, who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?