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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.
Art by John William Waterhouse.
Text and image source: Petie Barre https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=648562726232461&id=100032362197041
Purplerays 
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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