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: #C11D4F
RGB: 193 29 79
RGB: 193 29 79
HEX: #F45D5A
RGB: 244 93 90
RGB: 244 93 90
HEX: #180848
RGB: 24 8 72
RGB: 24 8 72
HEX: #E99466
RGB: 233 148 102
RGB: 233 148 102
HEX: #ECDEB7
RGB: 236 222 183
RGB: 236 222 183
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.
