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: #7F230C
RGB: 127 35 12
RGB: 127 35 12
HEX: #604019
RGB: 96 64 25
RGB: 96 64 25
HEX: #291000
RGB: 41 16 0
RGB: 41 16 0
HEX: #BE6521
RGB: 190 101 33
RGB: 190 101 33
HEX: #957E38
RGB: 149 126 56
RGB: 149 126 56
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.
