* * * * * *
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: #506953
RGB: 80 105 83
RGB: 80 105 83
HEX: #AC6455
RGB: 172 100 85
RGB: 172 100 85
HEX: #CD9C26
RGB: 205 156 38
RGB: 205 156 38
HEX: #FF8762
RGB: 255 135 98
RGB: 255 135 98
HEX: #FFF8C9
RGB: 255 248 201
RGB: 255 248 201
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!
