What are these roses like? Oh, they are rare

LVIII

Ὦ κάλα, ὦ χαρίεσσα

WHAT are these roses like ? Oh, they are rare, 
So balmy pink 
I will not shrink 
Them to the Graces to compare, 
When in gay dance the laughing triad link, 
When the round, lifted arms are bare, 
And just about 
The elbows' pout 
The warm flesh glows
Into a flower, incomparable rose :        
Such fluctuating stealth 
Of light doth interfuse 
Their virgin health, 
In its soft buoyance, as indues 
You, O ye roses, with your heavenly hues.