The Last Rosé of Summer
‘Tis the last rosé of Summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone;No flower for her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh,To reflect back her blushes Or give sigh for sigh… Oh wait. You mean Thomas Moore wasn’t talking about every millennial’s favorite wine when he wrote this? Well that’s embarrassing. Today (Labor Day) …