She was a Phantom of delight
/ When first she gleamed upon my sight;
/ A lovely Apparition, sent
/ To be a moment's ornament;
/ Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
/ Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
/ But all things else about her drawn
/ From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
/ A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
/ To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
/ I saw her upon nearer view,
/ A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
/ Her household motions light and free,
/ And steps of virgin-liberty;
/ A countenance in which did meet
/ Sweet records, promises as sweet;
/ A Creature not too bright or good
/ For human nature's daily food;
/ For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
/ Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
/ And now I see with eye serene
/ The very pulse of the machine;
/ A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
/ A Traveller between life and death;
/ The reason firm, the temperate will,
/ Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
/ A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
/ To warn, to comfort, and command;
/ And yet a Spirit still, and bright
/ With something of angelic light.
/// William Wordsworth
