* * * * * *
In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,
Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?
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With flashing streaks and shafts of amethyst,
While a light crimson mist
Went up before the mounting luminary,
And all the strips of cloud began to vary
Their hues, and all the zenith seemed to ope
As if to show a cope beyond the cope!
HEX: #505357
RGB: 80 83 87
RGB: 80 83 87
HEX: #A695A5
RGB: 166 149 165
RGB: 166 149 165
HEX: #6D4E53
RGB: 109 78 83
RGB: 109 78 83
HEX: #A3A9B3
RGB: 163 169 179
RGB: 163 169 179
HEX: #FDFADB
RGB: 253 250 219
RGB: 253 250 219
Princess of rivers, how I love
Upon thy flowery banks to lie,
And view thy silver stream,
When gilded by a summer's beam!
And in it all thy wanton fry,
Playing at liberty;
And with my angle, upon them
The all of treachery
I ever learned, industriously to try!
