I can't remember if I've put this up here before, but I just felt in the mood for it tonight:
'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming all 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.
Words: 1805, Thomas Moore
Music: 1813, John Stevenson
Singer: 1938, Deanna Durbin
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