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 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 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?

-Thomas Moore

 

 


 

 

Man's Inhumanity to Man

 

Many and sharp the numerous ills

Inwoven with our frame;

More pointed still, we make ourselves

Regret, remorse and shame;

And man, whose heaven-erected face

The smiles of love adorn,

Man's inhumanity to man,

Makes countless thousands mourn.

-Robert Burns

 

 


 

 

The Vampire

 

A Fool there was and he made his prayer

(Even as you and I!)

To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair,

(We called her the woman who did not care),

But the fool he called her his lady fair-

(Even as you and I!)

 

Oh, the years we waste and the tears we waste,

And the work of our head and hand

Belong to the woman who did not know

(And now we know that she never could know)

And did not understand!

 

A fool there was and his goods he spent,

(Even as you and I!)

Honour and faith and a sure intent

(And it wasn't the least what the lady meant),

But a fool must follow his natural bent

(Even as you and I!)

 

Oh, the toil we lost and the spoil we lost

And the excellent things we planned

Belong to the woman who didn't know why

(And now we know that she never knew why)

And did not understand!

 

The fool was stripped to his foolish hide,

(Even as you and I!)

Which she might have seen when she threw him aside-

(But it isn't on record the lady tried)

So some of him lived but most of him died-

(Even as you and I!)

 

"And isn't the shame and isn't the blame

That stings like a white-hot brand-

It's coming to know that she never knew why

(Seeing, at last, she could never know why)

And never could understand!

 

-Rudyard Kipling