 Tis the last rose of summer by Sir Thomas Moore. Red for Lieberbox.org. By Callaman. Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred. No rose but is nigh to reflect back her blotches or give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, to pine on the stem, since a lovelier sleeping. Go, sleep thou with them. Thus, kindly, I scatter thy leaves or the bed where thy mates of the garden light scentless and dead. So soon may I baller when friendships decay and from beloved signing circle the gems drop away. When true loves lie withered and pine ones are flown, oh, who would inhabit this bleak world alone? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Tis the last rose of summer by Sir Thomas Moore. Red for Lieberbox.org. By The Anomiling Air in November 2009. Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred. No rose but is nigh to reflect back her blotches or give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, to pine on the stem, since a lovelier sleeping. Go, sleep thou with them. Thus, kindly, I scatter thy leaves or the bed where thy mates of the garden light scentless and dead. So soon may I follow when friendships decay and from loves shining circle the gems drop away. When true hearts lie withered and pine ones are flown, oh, who would inhabit this bleak world alone? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Tis the last rose of summer by Sir Thomas Moore. Red for Lieberbox.org. By David Lawrence. Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred. No rose but is nigh to reflect back her blotches 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 or the bed where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow when friendships decay and from loves shining circle the gems drop away. When true hearts lie withered and pine ones are flown, oh, who would inhabit this bleak world alone? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred. No rose but is nigh to reflect back her blotches 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 or the bed where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow when friendships decay and from loves shining circle the gems drop away. When true hearts lie withered and pine ones are flown, oh, who would inhabit this bleak world alone? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred. No rose but is nigh to reflect back her blotches 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 or the bed where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow when friendships decay and from loves shining circle the gems drop away. When true hearts lie withered and pine ones are flown, oh, who would inhabit this bleak world alone? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Tis the Last Rose of Summer by Sir Thomas Moore, read for LibriVox.org by Kara Schellenberg. Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, no rose but 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 or the bed where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow when friendships decay and from loves shining circle the gems drop away. When true hearts lie withered and fond ones are flown, oh, who would inhabit this bleak world alone? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Tis the Last Rose of Summer by Sir Thomas Moore, read for LibriVox.org by Lucy Perry. Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, no rose but is nigh to reflect back her blushes or 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 over the bed where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow when friendships decay and from loves shining circle the gem drops away. When true hearts lie withered and fond ones are flown, oh, who would inhabit this bleak world alone? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Tis the last rose of summer by Sir Thomas Moore, read for LibriVox by Nancy Priff. Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, no rose but is nigh to reflect back her blushes or give sigh for sigh. No flower of her kindred, no rose but is nigh to reflect back her blushes or 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 over the bed where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow when friendships decay and from love I'll be free. When true hearts lie withered and fond ones are flown, oh, who would inhabit this bleak world alone? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Tis the last rose of summer by Sir Thomas Moore, read for LibriVox by Philip Griffiths. Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, no rose but 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 over 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? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Tis the last rose of summer by Sir Thomas Moore, read for LibriVox by Philip Griffiths. Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, no rose but 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 over 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? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, no rose but 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 over 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? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.