Poem by Thomas Hood

Time of Roses

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!

1. The Boy at the Nore
2. The Departure of Summer
3. Ballad (She's up and gone, the graceless girl)
4. To My Daughter on Her Birthday
5. To Fancy

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