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It Was Not in the Winter

It was not in the Winter
Our loving lot was cast;
It was the Time of Roses,'€”
We plucked them as we passed!
That churlish season never frown’d
On early lovers yet:'€”
Oh, 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.'€”
What else could peer thy glowing cheek,
That tears began to stud?
And when I ask’d the like of Love,
You snatched a damask bud;
And oped it to the dainty core,
Still glowing to the last.'€”
It was the Time of Roses,'€”
We plucked them as we pass’d!
Other works by Thomas Hood...



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