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: #9C7995
RGB: 156 121 149
RGB: 156 121 149
HEX: #CF8FA2
RGB: 207 143 162
RGB: 207 143 162
HEX: #FFB6AB
RGB: 255 182 171
RGB: 255 182 171
HEX: #D8E1DE
RGB: 216 225 222
RGB: 216 225 222
HEX: #EDE3D4
RGB: 237 227 212
RGB: 237 227 212
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.
