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Thomas Hood (Томас Гуд (Худ))


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! 



Thomas Hood's other poems:
  1. To a Child Embracing his Mother
  2. Sonnet to My Wife
  3. Hymn to the Sun
  4. To A Sleeping Child
  5. To An Enthusiast


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