Swift without violence, without terror great.
Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers
To Arno's myrtle border.
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Feeling small
When tears are in your eyes
I will dry them allI'm on your side
When times get rough
And friends just can't be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
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RGB: 187 187 146
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RGB: 229 229 200
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RGB: 220 219 167
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RGB: 248 248 225
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RGB: 251 251 237
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.
