That shouted in the mist a month ago,
Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow.
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Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse;
Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay,
Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
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RGB: 205 201 201
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RGB: 210 217 217
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RGB: 249 251 235
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RGB: 238 234 242
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RGB: 255 255 15
The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark,
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs,
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.