* * * * * *
In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,
Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?
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With flashing streaks and shafts of amethyst,
While a light crimson mist
Went up before the mounting luminary,
And all the strips of cloud began to vary
Their hues, and all the zenith seemed to ope
As if to show a cope beyond the cope!
HEX: #498278
RGB: 73 130 120
RGB: 73 130 120
HEX: #D59B83
RGB: 213 155 131
RGB: 213 155 131
HEX: #C25C60
RGB: 194 92 96
RGB: 194 92 96
HEX: #98BEE5
RGB: 152 190 229
RGB: 152 190 229
HEX: #F5DEB4
RGB: 245 222 180
RGB: 245 222 180
Princess of rivers, how I love
Upon thy flowery banks to lie,
And view thy silver stream,
When gilded by a summer's beam!
And in it all thy wanton fry,
Playing at liberty;
And with my angle, upon them
The all of treachery
I ever learned, industriously to try!
