The Jewels and the Gracchi

Cornelia with an air
Of amber in her hair
Pushed forth her simpering boys
With a touch of unsureness:
“These are my jewels and joys;
Their names are Crystal called,
It sorts well with their clearness.”
The guests were all appalled

Save one, who with a pair
Of emeralds at her ear
Felt for her shining toys
And nestled to their nearness,
Making a tiny noise,
Idolatrous and bald.
This was unenvying queerness.
The boys were quite enthralled.