As thou hast been!
On thy seven hills of yore
Thou sat'st a queen.
O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar
Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
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And, to be great indeed, forget
The nauseous pleasures of the great:
Make haste and come:
Come, and forsake thy cloying store;
Thy turret that surveys, from high,
The smoke, and wealth, and noise of Rome;
And all the busy pageantry
That wise men scorn, and fools adore:
Come, give thy soul a loose, and taste the pleasures of the poor.
HEX: #5E3C4A
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RGB: 94 60 74
HEX: #B78EA0
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RGB: 183 142 160
HEX: #1B2733
RGB: 27 39 51
RGB: 27 39 51
HEX: #67A69E
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RGB: 103 166 158
HEX: #D3C7AD
RGB: 211 199 173
RGB: 211 199 173
