* * * * * *
In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,
Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?
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With flashing streaks and shafts of amethyst,
While a light crimson mist
Went up before the mounting luminary,
And all the strips of cloud began to vary
Their hues, and all the zenith seemed to ope
As if to show a cope beyond the cope!
HEX: #8E7571
RGB: 142 117 113
RGB: 142 117 113
HEX: #827A78
RGB: 130 122 120
RGB: 130 122 120
HEX: #4E433D
RGB: 78 67 61
RGB: 78 67 61
HEX: #898681
RGB: 137 134 129
RGB: 137 134 129
HEX: #B1B0AE
RGB: 177 176 174
RGB: 177 176 174
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!
