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: #BB4017
RGB: 187 64 23
RGB: 187 64 23
HEX: #8BA55B
RGB: 139 165 91
RGB: 139 165 91
HEX: #460700
RGB: 70 7 0
RGB: 70 7 0
HEX: #C79830
RGB: 199 152 48
RGB: 199 152 48
HEX: #F3F4BA
RGB: 243 244 186
RGB: 243 244 186
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.
