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: #6A5A43
RGB: 106 90 67
RGB: 106 90 67
HEX: #A86D71
RGB: 168 109 113
RGB: 168 109 113
HEX: #F8A267
RGB: 248 162 103
RGB: 248 162 103
HEX: #FF8570
RGB: 255 133 112
RGB: 255 133 112
HEX: #FAD88C
RGB: 250 216 140
RGB: 250 216 140
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.
