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
5
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;
10
It was the time of roses—
We pluck’d them as we pass’d!
Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Thomas Hood. 1798–1845
651. Time of Roses