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: #628C46
RGB: 98 140 70
RGB: 98 140 70
HEX: #8CBAA7
RGB: 140 186 167
RGB: 140 186 167
HEX: #535927
RGB: 83 89 39
RGB: 83 89 39
HEX: #D3DED7
RGB: 211 222 215
RGB: 211 222 215
HEX: #EBEAE6
RGB: 235 234 230
RGB: 235 234 230
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.
