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: #A30C00
RGB: 163 12 0
RGB: 163 12 0
HEX: #DE4C1D
RGB: 222 76 29
RGB: 222 76 29
HEX: #000C2E
RGB: 0 12 46
RGB: 0 12 46
HEX: #BFA574
RGB: 191 165 116
RGB: 191 165 116
HEX: #FBDCA3
RGB: 251 220 163
RGB: 251 220 163
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.
