The lady stands tall and proud,
A thousand jewels adorn her,
Brooches and pins of stone.
A misty shawl graces her shoulders,
White and lighter than down.
If the wind blows, the shawl flies away,
But the lady is too dignified
To chase it.
She merely waits for another
To be given to her.
Her slippers are emerald silk,
Dusted with brocade specks
Of flower yellows, pinks, and blues.
Apollo admires her
And showers her with radiant praise.
Diana scorns her
And offers little warmth.
But under praise or scorn
The lady proudly stands,
Her ivory cheeks glowing with life,
Enjoying blue silks and green,
Jewels and shawls,
And majesty.