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: #351420
RGB: 53 20 32
RGB: 53 20 32
HEX: #C5542D
RGB: 197 84 45
RGB: 197 84 45
HEX: #C79416
RGB: 199 148 22
RGB: 199 148 22
HEX: #5D9576
RGB: 93 149 118
RGB: 93 149 118
HEX: #E7D78C
RGB: 231 215 140
RGB: 231 215 140
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.
