That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.
There is nothing adorning;
The night has no eve,
And the day has no morning;
Cold winter gives warning!
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I come o'er the mountain with light and song:
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves, opening as I pass.
HEX: #919169
RGB: 145 145 105
RGB: 145 145 105
HEX: #E0B787
RGB: 224 183 135
RGB: 224 183 135
HEX: #A8232F
RGB: 168 35 47
RGB: 168 35 47
HEX: #E6855C
RGB: 230 133 92
RGB: 230 133 92
HEX: #D3D2A4
RGB: 211 210 164
RGB: 211 210 164
And half the platform just reflects the other.
The suff'ring eye inverted nature sees,
Trees cut in statues, statues thick as trees;
With here a fountain never to be play'd,
And there a summer-house that knows no shade.
