But gudgeons, flounders, what my Thames affords.
As cold as death;
Never thirsty, ever drinking,
All in mail never clinking
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Inclined upon the river's flowery side,
I pause to see the sportive fishes play,
And cut with finny oars the sparkling tide.
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RGB: 183 87 45
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RGB: 86 122 117
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RGB: 160 64 30
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RGB: 188 111 76
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RGB: 164 144 96
