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: #A20F2C
RGB: 162 15 44
RGB: 162 15 44
HEX: #64855A
RGB: 100 133 90
RGB: 100 133 90
HEX: #470023
RGB: 71 0 35
RGB: 71 0 35
HEX: #FA101B
RGB: 250 16 27
RGB: 250 16 27
HEX: #FFA24E
RGB: 255 162 78
RGB: 255 162 78
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.
