Ballad (Hood; "It was not in the Winter")

by Thomas Hood

For works with similar titles, see Ballad.

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!