Tis the last rose of summer
Thomas Moore
My banks are all furnished with rags,
As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow
Farewell! but whenever you welcome the hour
Has sorrow thy young days shaded,
I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining,
I'd mourn the hopes that leave me,
In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown,
It is not the tear at this moment shed,
Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty bright
Dear Goddess of Corn, whom the ancients we know,
Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,
Oh! think not my spirits are always as light,
When through life unblest we rove,
Sing -- sing -- Music was given
(Time -- the Ninth Century)
The Ghost of Miltiades came at night,
There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
Strike the gay harp! see the moon is on high,
Silent, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water,
The valley lay smiling before me,
The time I've lost in wooing,
The young May moon is beaming, love.
They may rail at this life -- from the hour I began it
This life is all chequer'd with pleasures and woes,
Though the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see,
'Twas grav'd on the Stone of Destiny,
Remember the Glories of Brien the Brave
What the bee is to the floweret,
While gazing on the moon's light,
While History's Muse the memorial was keeping