Classic Poem

Thou hast renounced thy proud and royal state;
Deserted thy strong men-at-arms who stand
Attentive to imperious command;
And with a small key at the groaning gate —
Sweet traitress! — met thine enemy. The great
Moon threw a white enchantment o'er the land
When in my hand I caught thy yielded hand,
And laughing kissed thy laughing lips elate.

For of thy queenly folly thou hast laid
In sandalwood thy stiff, embroidered gown;
With happiness apparelled thou hast strayed
Incognita through many a sunlit town,
Heedless of our uncaptained hosts arrayed
Or of the flags their battles shall bring down.