Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
In Twit'nham bowers, and for their Pope implore.
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I crown thee king of intimate delights,
Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturb'd Retirement, and the hours
Of long uninterrupted evening, know.
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RGB: 180 151 169
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RGB: 222 201 218
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RGB: 223 197 74
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RGB: 246 227 106
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RGB: 248 241 171
By Clyde's meandering stream,
When Sol in joy is seen to leave
The earth with crimson beam;
When islands that wandered far
Above his sea couch lie,
And here and there some gem-like star
Re-opes its sparkling eye.
