Time Of Roses

Thomas Hood

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 nothe 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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