'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
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead
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