Tis The Last Rose Of Summer

'Tis the last rose of summer Thomas Moore (1779-1852) 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, To 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, 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?

When my mother was yet alive in her 80s she mentioned to me that at times it was lonely for her as all of her friends had passed away over time.  I little understood what she meant as most of her children were still around and visited her periodically.  She lived next door to one of her sons and his family.  She wasn’t exactly all alone it seemed to me.

Within the past few months I have become aware of this poem written by Thomas Moore in 1805.  It seems Moore is discussing the very same thing my mother spoke of some twenty-five years ago.  However as time passes I now much more understand what she was saying.  So many that I have always known I shall never see again.  It has been said that time heals all wounds.  Yes, it does, as we all return to the nothingness we were before we were born.  Thomas Moore was much more adept at stating this than I am.