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: #BC2B0E
RGB: 188 43 14
RGB: 188 43 14
HEX: #FF7F18
RGB: 255 127 24
RGB: 255 127 24
HEX: #662107
RGB: 102 33 7
RGB: 102 33 7
HEX: #FFA019
RGB: 255 160 25
RGB: 255 160 25
HEX: #FBD143
RGB: 251 209 67
RGB: 251 209 67
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.
