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