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: #00432D
RGB: 0 67 45
RGB: 0 67 45
HEX: #498178
RGB: 73 129 120
RGB: 73 129 120
HEX: #000907
RGB: 0 9 7
RGB: 0 9 7
HEX: #01AE83
RGB: 1 174 131
RGB: 1 174 131
HEX: #DDE3E1
RGB: 221 227 225
RGB: 221 227 225
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!
