Charles Wolfe

(4 December 1791 – 21 February 1823 / Blakhall, County Kildare)

Quotations

The Last Rose Of Summer

That strain again? It seems to tell
Of something like a joy departed;
I love its mourning accents well,
Like voice of one, ah! broken-hearted.

That note that pensive dies away,
And can each answering thrill awaken,
It sadly, wildly, seems to say,
Thy meek heart mourns its truth forsaken.

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