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
