Roger Quilter - The Time of Roses

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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!

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