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 Withered, And Fond Ones Are Flown, Oh! Who Would Inhabit This Bleak World Alone?