TIME OF ROSES

Thomas Hood 1799-`1845

It was not in the Winter

 Our loving lot was cast;

It was the time of roses - 

 We pluck’d them as we pass’d!

That churlish season never frown’d

 On early lovers yet:

O no - the world was newly crown’d

 With flowers when first we met!

’Twas twilight, and I bade you go,

 But still you held me fast;

It was the time of roses - 

 We pluck’d them as we pass’d!

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