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: 214 88 86
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RGB: 166 107 75
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RGB: 201 55 52
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RGB: 199 145 117
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RGB: 223 171 134
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more;
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willow'd shore.