Classic Poem

In middle of a noble space,
Of antique wood and boundless plain,
Queen Sylvia, regent of all grace,
Held long-descended reign.

The diadem her forehead wore
Was her bright hair, a golden band;
And she, as sceptre, ever bore
A distaff in her hand.

In russet train, with rustling tread,
She walked like morning, dewy-eyed,
And like Saint Agnes, ever led
A white lamb at her side.

And she to all the flowery land
Was dear as are the summer skies;
And round her waving mulberry-wand
Swarmed all the butterflies.

Queen was she of the flaxen skein,
And empress of the snowy fleece,
And o'er the silkworm's small domain
Held guard in days of peace.