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: #8B6A29
RGB: 139 106 41
RGB: 139 106 41
HEX: #E68B2F
RGB: 230 139 47
RGB: 230 139 47
HEX: #F46B09
RGB: 244 107 9
RGB: 244 107 9
HEX: #D8B262
RGB: 216 178 98
RGB: 216 178 98
HEX: #CCD6B4
RGB: 204 214 180
RGB: 204 214 180
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.
