'Tis the Last Rose of Summer

This was our June blooming rose on the first day of June.

It is always so lovely, but the blooms don't last long. It only blooms once a year.

So I was really surprised to find, literally, the last rose of summer ths morning.

I have never seen it bloom so late before.

Naturally, this poem by Irish poet Thomas Moore (1779-1852) came to mind. 

The Last Rose of Summer

‘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.

So soon may I follow,
   When friendships decay,
And 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 words were set to an old Irish folk tune and recorded by many.

I imagine my Irish Bodhran playing son-in-law, Ken, has played and sung it in his performances.

(Pictured here left to right, Ken, Michael and John, The Irish Volunteers, playing in The Irish Cottage at the Minnesota Renaissance Festival in 2007.)