With comfort are downward gazing.
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My musick shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.
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And half the platform just reflects the other.
The suff'ring eye inverted nature sees,
Trees cut in statues, statues thick as trees;
With here a fountain never to be play'd,
And there a summer-house that knows no shade.
HEX: #FF402B
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RGB: 255 64 43
HEX: #FFA836
RGB: 255 168 54
RGB: 255 168 54
HEX: #C80016
RGB: 200 0 22
RGB: 200 0 22
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RGB: 244 84 19
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RGB: 251 229 161
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core.
