Planted, but use; where wholesome herbs should grow.
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And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair, and jewelled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden paths.
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RGB: 72 72 72
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RGB: 192 192 192
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RGB: 43 43 43
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RGB: 216 216 216
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RGB: 255 255 255
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.
