And smite the hills with day.
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
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RGB: 39 41 35
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RGB: 128 158 147
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RGB: 109 133 124
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RGB: 242 230 206
And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine;
A small Euphrates thro' the piece is roll'd,
And little eagles wave their wings in gold.