From “Irish Melodies”
’T IS 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,
  Or give sigh for sigh!

I ’ll not leave thee, thou lone one!
  To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are...