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: #000000
RGB: 0 0 0
RGB: 0 0 0
HEX: #444444
RGB: 68 68 68
RGB: 68 68 68
HEX: #888888
RGB: 136 136 136
RGB: 136 136 136
HEX: #BBBBBB
RGB: 187 187 187
RGB: 187 187 187
HEX: #FFFFFF
RGB: 255 255 255
RGB: 255 255 255
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.
