Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise.
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Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
In Twit'nham bowers, and for their Pope implore.
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RGB: 120 102 65
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RGB: 230 104 29
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RGB: 224 156 21
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RGB: 182 187 25
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RGB: 175 191 179
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more;
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willow'd shore.