Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise.
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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: 88 96 112
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RGB: 104 123 130
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RGB: 246 147 133
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RGB: 133 165 170
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RGB: 215 223 224
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more;
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willow'd shore.