An old woman shows off an emerald ring she inherited from her grandmother, and she talks about it in the matter-of-fact way you'd mention a neighbor. The odd part is where the ring came from: the Queen gave it, and "their land" is clearly not an ordinary place. The poem never says the word, but the details suggest a fairy realm, with a gift that might still carry some magic and a speaker who has visited and seen "pretty things."
Her tone is the interesting part. She's a little wary of the ring's power, so she wears it on a chain, yet she's calm about it too. "Why ask for trouble?" sounds like plain country sense. Underneath that, the mood turns lonely and tender. The ring reminds her of Gram, and she admits she has "nobody here now." Her hope that they'll come and take her to stay feels less eerie than comforting. The poem is quiet and strange, but mostly it's about belonging, and about finding it somewhere other than home.