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: #9C9A9E
RGB: 156 154 158
RGB: 156 154 158
HEX: #ADA9A1
RGB: 173 169 161
RGB: 173 169 161
HEX: #ADBCC0
RGB: 173 188 192
RGB: 173 188 192
HEX: #B6B3AD
RGB: 182 179 173
RGB: 182 179 173
HEX: #EDEBF0
RGB: 237 235 240
RGB: 237 235 240
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.
