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: #6A5A43
RGB: 106 90 67
RGB: 106 90 67
HEX: #A86D71
RGB: 168 109 113
RGB: 168 109 113
HEX: #F8A267
RGB: 248 162 103
RGB: 248 162 103
HEX: #FF8570
RGB: 255 133 112
RGB: 255 133 112
HEX: #FAD88C
RGB: 250 216 140
RGB: 250 216 140
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.
