Some random bud will meet;
Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find
The daisy at thy feet.
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And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair, and jewelled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden paths.
HEX: #F79990
RGB: 247 153 144
RGB: 247 153 144
HEX: #FCB29E
RGB: 252 178 158
RGB: 252 178 158
HEX: #D46C80
RGB: 212 108 128
RGB: 212 108 128
HEX: #D7BEC0
RGB: 215 190 192
RGB: 215 190 192
HEX: #FAD6C1
RGB: 250 214 193
RGB: 250 214 193
I come o'er the mountain with light and song:
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves, opening as I pass.
