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: #BC2B0E
RGB: 188 43 14
RGB: 188 43 14
HEX: #FF7F18
RGB: 255 127 24
RGB: 255 127 24
HEX: #662107
RGB: 102 33 7
RGB: 102 33 7
HEX: #FFA019
RGB: 255 160 25
RGB: 255 160 25
HEX: #FBD143
RGB: 251 209 67
RGB: 251 209 67
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.
