sábado, 4 de junho de 2011

The Last Rose of Summer - Thomas Moore

The Last Rose of Summer
Thomas Moore (1779–1852)
’TIS the last rose of summer
  Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
  Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,        5
  No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
  To give sigh for sigh.
I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one!
  To pine on the stem;        10
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        15
  Lie scentless and dead.
So soon may I follow,
  When friendships decay,
And from Love’s shining circle
  The gems drop away.        20
When true hearts lie withered
  And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
  This bleak world alone?   
 Posted by Diogo Oliveira

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