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: #919169
RGB: 145 145 105
RGB: 145 145 105
HEX: #E0B787
RGB: 224 183 135
RGB: 224 183 135
HEX: #A8232F
RGB: 168 35 47
RGB: 168 35 47
HEX: #E6855C
RGB: 230 133 92
RGB: 230 133 92
HEX: #D3D2A4
RGB: 211 210 164
RGB: 211 210 164
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.
