The lily's cup which hardly moists the field.
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
Out o'er the grassy lea.
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z
featuring 1 font
Still the air is chill and raw,
Here and there a patch of snow,
Dirtier than the ground below,
Dribbles down a marshy flood;
Ankle-deep you stick in mud
In the meadows while you sing,
"This is Spring."
HEX: #820408
RGB: 130 4 8
RGB: 130 4 8
HEX: #C41600
RGB: 196 22 0
RGB: 196 22 0
HEX: #A00100
RGB: 160 1 0
RGB: 160 1 0
HEX: #71420C
RGB: 113 66 12
RGB: 113 66 12
HEX: #CF5116
RGB: 207 81 22
RGB: 207 81 22
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.
