featuring 2 fonts
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice;
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress;
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountains start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
HEX: #798B30
RGB: 121 139 48
RGB: 121 139 48
HEX: #FCAA9F
RGB: 252 170 159
RGB: 252 170 159
HEX: #F84F38
RGB: 248 79 56
RGB: 248 79 56
HEX: #B7D672
RGB: 183 214 114
RGB: 183 214 114
HEX: #FFF5E4
RGB: 255 245 228
RGB: 255 245 228
Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain,
Oft have I seen the war of winds contend,
And prone on earth th' infuriate storm descend,
Waste far and wide, and by the roots uptorn,
The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne,
As the light straw and rapid stubble fly
In dark'ning whirlwinds round the wintry sky.
