Swift without violence, without terror great.
Spring may boast her flowery prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures
Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.
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How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
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RGB: 165 85 113
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RGB: 163 125 117
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RGB: 51 76 122
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RGB: 164 145 178
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RGB: 182 176 208