What are these roses like? Oh, they are rare


    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.