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: #506953
RGB: 80 105 83
RGB: 80 105 83
HEX: #AC6455
RGB: 172 100 85
RGB: 172 100 85
HEX: #CD9C26
RGB: 205 156 38
RGB: 205 156 38
HEX: #FF8762
RGB: 255 135 98
RGB: 255 135 98
HEX: #FFF8C9
RGB: 255 248 201
RGB: 255 248 201
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.
