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: 89 87 87
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RGB: 153 153 153
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RGB: 255 187 51
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RGB: 176 172 172
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RGB: 224 218 195
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more;
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willow'd shore.