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: #BB4017
RGB: 187 64 23
RGB: 187 64 23
HEX: #8BA55B
RGB: 139 165 91
RGB: 139 165 91
HEX: #460700
RGB: 70 7 0
RGB: 70 7 0
HEX: #C79830
RGB: 199 152 48
RGB: 199 152 48
HEX: #F3F4BA
RGB: 243 244 186
RGB: 243 244 186
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.