by Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852)

'Tis the last rose of summer
Language: English 
Available translation(s): DUT FRE
'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flow'r of her kindred,
No rosebud 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 [thy bed,
Where]1 thy mates of the garden
Lie [scentless]2 and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from Love's shining circle
The gems drop away!
When true hearts lie wither'd.
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?

About the headline (FAQ)

View original text (without footnotes)
1 Britten: "the bed/ Where"
2 Britten: "senseless"

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:

Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • DUT Dutch (Nederlands) (Guy Tops) , "’t Is de laatste roos van de zomer", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "C'est la dernière rose de l'été", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Ted Perry