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: #23090D
RGB: 35 9 13
RGB: 35 9 13
HEX: #5E2628
RGB: 94 38 40
RGB: 94 38 40
HEX: #B0262A
RGB: 176 38 42
RGB: 176 38 42
HEX: #C7342F
RGB: 199 52 47
RGB: 199 52 47
HEX: #FFCE4E
RGB: 255 206 78
RGB: 255 206 78
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.
