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: #A30C00
RGB: 163 12 0
RGB: 163 12 0
HEX: #DE4C1D
RGB: 222 76 29
RGB: 222 76 29
HEX: #000C2E
RGB: 0 12 46
RGB: 0 12 46
HEX: #BFA574
RGB: 191 165 116
RGB: 191 165 116
HEX: #FBDCA3
RGB: 251 220 163
RGB: 251 220 163
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.
