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: #8B6A29
RGB: 139 106 41
RGB: 139 106 41
HEX: #E68B2F
RGB: 230 139 47
RGB: 230 139 47
HEX: #F46B09
RGB: 244 107 9
RGB: 244 107 9
HEX: #D8B262
RGB: 216 178 98
RGB: 216 178 98
HEX: #CCD6B4
RGB: 204 214 180
RGB: 204 214 180
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.
