The last flower of the garden was blooming alone
The last rays of the sun on its blushing leaves shone
Still a glittering drop on its bosom reclined
And a few half blown buds amidst its leaves were entwined
Say lonely one, say, why lingerest thou here!?
And why on thy bosom reclines the bright tear!?
'T is the tear of a zephyr, for summer it was shed,
And for all thy companions now withered and dead
Why lingerest thou here, when around thee are strown
The flowers once so lovely, by Autumn blast blown!?
Say, why, sweetest floweret, the last of thy race
Why lingerest thou here the lone garden to grace!?
As I spoke, a rough blast, sent by Winter's own hand
Whistled by me, and bent its sweet head to the sand
I hastened to raise it, the dew drop had fled
And the once lovely flower was withered and dead!.
The Last Flower Of The Garden (1821) by Lucretia Maria Davidson aged 13!.Www@QuestionHome@Com