Saturday, September 24, 2022

Holding On

The arbor- trellis roses are still blooming their little hearts out.
Perfect sunny days, and mist-laden, cool nights, affording them once last chance at a flush of beauty, before the first frost appears.









'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;

No flower of her kindred,
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;
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,
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?


The Last Rose of Summer:  Thomas Moore 1805
 

4 comments:

Kathy said...

Beautiful poem, but so sad. My roses are still blooming. They usually last until the end of October here.

L. D. said...

Northern Iowa is suppose to get frost next Wednesday. We were cold this morning and then I turned on the air this afternoon.

Sandi said...

Beautiful!

HWIT BLOGG said...

What a lovely poem...yes, let´s keep holding on!
Titti