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HOME > Biographical > The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood > Ballad.
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Ballad.
It was not in the Winter

Our loving lot was cast;

It was the Time of Roses —

We plucked them as we passed!

That churlish season never frown’d

On early lovers yet:—

Oh, 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 T............
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