Of roses all a-blow.
Two gentle boys, with blue eyes clear as glass,
And locks as light as tufted cotton grass,
And faces as the snow
That lies on Ararat, and flushes pink
On summer evenings, as the sun doth sink,
Were stationed by the royal golden chair
With fillets of carnation in their hair,
And clothed in silken vesture, candid, clean,
To flutter fans of burnished blue and green,