But gudgeons, flounders, what my Thames affords.
As cold as death;
Never thirsty, ever drinking,
All in mail never clinking
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Inclined upon the river's flowery side,
I pause to see the sportive fishes play,
And cut with finny oars the sparkling tide.
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RGB: 54 63 72
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RGB: 242 110 33
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RGB: 255 214 2
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RGB: 45 131 158
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RGB: 101 204 169
