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: #23090D
RGB: 35 9 13
RGB: 35 9 13
HEX: #5E2628
RGB: 94 38 40
RGB: 94 38 40
HEX: #B0262A
RGB: 176 38 42
RGB: 176 38 42
HEX: #C7342F
RGB: 199 52 47
RGB: 199 52 47
HEX: #FFCE4E
RGB: 255 206 78
RGB: 255 206 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.
