* * * * * *
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: #96796C
RGB: 150 121 108
RGB: 150 121 108
HEX: #74899A
RGB: 116 137 154
RGB: 116 137 154
HEX: #66704B
RGB: 102 112 75
RGB: 102 112 75
HEX: #B1B4BB
RGB: 177 180 187
RGB: 177 180 187
HEX: #DBC4A4
RGB: 219 196 164
RGB: 219 196 164
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!
