Under a lawn, than skies more clear, Some ruffled roses nestling were: And, snugging there, they seem’d to lie As in a flowery nunnery: They blush’d, and look’d more fresh than flowers Quicken’d of late by pearly showers, And all because they were possess’d But of the heat of Julia’s breast: Which, as a warm and moisten’d spring, Gave them their ever-flourishing.