Its mother was weeping.
of the tree of poetry
that is eternity wearing
the green leaves of time.
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RGB: 26 20 20
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RGB: 139 128 110
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RGB: 252 123 81
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RGB: 206 182 136
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RGB: 227 204 173
Up stairs and doon stairs in his nicht-goun,
Tirlin' at the window, cryin' at the lock,
"Are the weans in their bed? for it's now ten o'clock."
