Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentis
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Strong, black, and of a noble breed,
Full of fire, and full of bone,
With all his line of fathers known;
Fine his nose, his nostrils thin,
But blown abroad by the pride within;
His mane is like a river flowing,
And his eyes like embers glowing
In the darkness of the night,
And his pace as swift as light.
HEX: #746B5C
RGB: 116 107 92
RGB: 116 107 92
HEX: #D1BF9D
RGB: 209 191 157
RGB: 209 191 157
HEX: #9D7160
RGB: 157 113 96
RGB: 157 113 96
HEX: #DBE3E0
RGB: 219 227 224
RGB: 219 227 224
HEX: #FFF1E6
RGB: 255 241 230
RGB: 255 241 230
In a slow silent walk
With an old horse that stumbles and nods
Half asleep as they stalk.
Only thin smoke without flame
From the heaps of couch-grass;
Yet this will go onward the same
Though Dynasties pass.
Yonder a maid and her wight
Come whispering by:War's annals will cloud into night
Ere their story die.