* * * * * *
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: #890D05
RGB: 137 13 5
RGB: 137 13 5
HEX: #A695A5
RGB: 166 149 165
RGB: 166 149 165
HEX: #311000
RGB: 49 16 0
RGB: 49 16 0
HEX: #AFFBE7
RGB: 175 251 231
RGB: 175 251 231
HEX: #FEFDB1
RGB: 254 253 177
RGB: 254 253 177
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!
