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: #680C35
RGB: 104 12 53
RGB: 104 12 53
HEX: #F75D43
RGB: 247 93 67
RGB: 247 93 67
HEX: #906000
RGB: 144 96 0
RGB: 144 96 0
HEX: #F89753
RGB: 248 151 83
RGB: 248 151 83
HEX: #D5D0A6
RGB: 213 208 166
RGB: 213 208 166
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.
