Smile on the brow of the waters.
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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First gilds the clouds, then shows his globe of light
At such a distance from our eyes, as though
He knew what harm his hasty beams would do.
HEX: #498278
RGB: 73 130 120
RGB: 73 130 120
HEX: #D59B83
RGB: 213 155 131
RGB: 213 155 131
HEX: #C25C60
RGB: 194 92 96
RGB: 194 92 96
HEX: #98BEE5
RGB: 152 190 229
RGB: 152 190 229
HEX: #F5DEB4
RGB: 245 222 180
RGB: 245 222 180
With queenly tread;
Thou hast proud fanes above
Thy mighty dead.
Yet wears thy Tiber's shore
A mournful mien:-
Rome, Rome, thou art no more
As thou hast been.
