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Time of Roses

 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 
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; 
It was the time of roses— 
We pluck'd them as we pass'd!

by Thomas Hood
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