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: #23395E
RGB: 35 57 94
RGB: 35 57 94
HEX: #31507C
RGB: 49 80 124
RGB: 49 80 124
HEX: #07152F
RGB: 7 21 47
RGB: 7 21 47
HEX: #486793
RGB: 72 103 147
RGB: 72 103 147
HEX: #6F87B7
RGB: 111 135 183
RGB: 111 135 183
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!
