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: #890D05
RGB: 137 13 5
RGB: 137 13 5
HEX: #A695A5
RGB: 166 149 165
RGB: 166 149 165
HEX: #311000
RGB: 49 16 0
RGB: 49 16 0
HEX: #AFFBE7
RGB: 175 251 231
RGB: 175 251 231
HEX: #FEFDB1
RGB: 254 253 177
RGB: 254 253 177
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.
