Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers
To Arno's myrtle border.
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What is 't ye do? what life lead? eh, dull goggles?
How do ye vary your vile days and nights?
How pass your Sundays? Are ye still but joggles
In ceaseless wash? Still nought but gapes and bites,
And drinks, and stares, diversified with boggles.
HEX: #617B72
RGB: 97 123 114
RGB: 97 123 114
HEX: #CED483
RGB: 206 212 131
RGB: 206 212 131
HEX: #6F8E8D
RGB: 111 142 141
RGB: 111 142 141
HEX: #9DBA95
RGB: 157 186 149
RGB: 157 186 149
HEX: #CDDE95
RGB: 205 222 149
RGB: 205 222 149
Princess of rivers, how I love
Upon thy flowery banks to lie,
And view thy silver stream,
When gilded by a summer's beam!
And in it all thy wanton fry,
Playing at liberty;
And with my angle, upon them
The all of treachery
I ever learned, industriously to try!
