Poesy

Time of Roses

It was not in the WinterOur loving lot was cast;It was the time of roses⁠—We pluck'd them as we pass'd!

That churlish season never frown'dOn early lovers yet:O no⁠—the world was newly crown'dWith 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!

Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.