It was not in the Winter

Thomas Hood

1799 to 1845

Poem Image
Track 1

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It was the Time of Roses,—
You snatched a damask bud;
Twas twilight, and I bade you go,
And when I ask'd the like of Love,
And oped it to the dainty core,
But still you held me fast;
It was the Time of Roses,—
Still glowing to the last.—
Oh, no—the world was newly crown'd
With flowers when first we met!
We plucked them as we passed!
What else could peer thy glowing cheek,
That tears began to stud?
It was not in the Winter
It was the Time of Roses,—
We plucked them as we pass'd!
We pluck'd them as we pass'd.—
On early lovers yet:—
That churlish season never frown'd
Our loving lot was cast;

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