THE HAPPY VALLEY. 
191 
Others on beds of roses lay reclined, 
The regal flowers athwart their full lips thrown. 
And in one fragrance both their sweets combined, 
As if they on the self-same stem had grown; 
So close was rose and lip together twined, 
A double flower that from one bud had blown, 
Till none could tell, so sweetly were they blended, 
Where swelled the curving lip, or where the rose- 
bloom ended. 
One, half asleep, crushing the twined flowers, 
Upon a velvet slope like Dian lay; 
Still as a lark that mid the daisies cowers ; 
Her looped-up tunic, tossed in disarray, 
Showed rounded limbs too fair for earthly bowers— 
They looked like roses on a cloudy day, 
The warm white dulled amid the colder green; 
The flowers too rough a couch that lovely shape to 
screen. 
Some lay like Thetis’ nymphs along the shore, 
With ocean-pearl combing their golden locks, 
And singing to the waves for evermore ; 
Sinking like flowers at eve beside the rocks, 
