Has wrought a silence.
Thy banks' purest stream shall be dear to me ever.
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Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
In Twit'nham bowers, and for their Pope implore.
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RGB: 51 46 42
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RGB: 95 95 95
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RGB: 76 47 31
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RGB: 184 186 198
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RGB: 188 209 140
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more;
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willow'd shore.