Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
In Twit'nham bowers, and for their Pope implore.
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By Clyde's meandering stream,
When Sol in joy is seen to leave
The earth with crimson beam;
When islands that wandered far
Above his sea couch lie,
And here and there some gem-like star
Re-opes its sparkling eye.
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RGB: 52 37 20
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RGB: 127 94 56
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RGB: 161 150 19
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RGB: 154 173 122
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RGB: 190 191 126
Princess of rivers, how I love
Upon thy flowery banks to lie,
And view thy silver stream,
When gilded by a summer's beam!
And in it all thy wanton fry,
Playing at liberty;
And with my angle, upon them
The all of treachery
I ever learned, industriously to try!
