That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.
There is nothing adorning;
The night has no eve,
And the day has no morning;
Cold winter gives warning!
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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.
HEX: #4A3021
RGB: 74 48 33
RGB: 74 48 33
HEX: #9C6D56
RGB: 156 109 86
RGB: 156 109 86
HEX: #F06D5A
RGB: 240 109 90
RGB: 240 109 90
HEX: #E0AC87
RGB: 224 172 135
RGB: 224 172 135
HEX: #E1D5B5
RGB: 225 213 181
RGB: 225 213 181
And half the platform just reflects the other.
The suff'ring eye inverted nature sees,
Trees cut in statues, statues thick as trees;
With here a fountain never to be play'd,
And there a summer-house that knows no shade.
