“Stranger,
here you will do well to linger; here our highest good is pleasure”
Epicurus

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Time of Roses

September 22, 2019

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 (1789-1845)

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