Monday, September 21, 2009

The Last Rose of Summer

Early this past June, as I was walking back from the mailbox, Emma met me and implored me to sit with her under a pecan tree and savor the moment. I did.

I knew as I sat there that it was one of those moments when everything else fades away and you are keenly aware of all of your senses. The air smelled sweet and felt velvety with the light breeze; the sky vibrated with blue energy; the still-tender grass bent easily at my touch. Then Emma started singing "The Last Rose of Summer."

This morning I remembered our time under the pecan tree when I realized that today is the last day of summer.

Here are the lyrics, compliments of Bartleby's:

The Last Rose of Summer

Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

’TIS the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred, 5
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; 10
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 15
Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from Love’s shining circle
The gems drop away. 20
When true hearts lie withered
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?

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