With looks my care beguiling;
The country round appeareth straight
A flower-garden smiling.
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And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair, and jewelled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden paths.
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RGB: 134 28 130
RGB: 134 28 130
HEX: #FBB040
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RGB: 251 176 64
HEX: #E20177
RGB: 226 1 119
RGB: 226 1 119
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RGB: 193 216 47
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RGB: 164 215 244
I come o'er the mountain with light and song:
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves, opening as I pass.