Its mother was weeping.
of the tree of poetry
that is eternity wearing
the green leaves of time.
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RGB: 53 20 32
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RGB: 197 84 45
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RGB: 199 148 22
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RGB: 93 149 118
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RGB: 231 215 140
Up stairs and doon stairs in his nicht-goun,
Tirlin' at the window, cryin' at the lock,
"Are the weans in their bed? for it's now ten o'clock."
