She was a Phantom of delight

SHE was a Phantom of delight     
When first she gleam'd 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 waylay.     
 
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 plann'd     
To warn, to comfort, and command;     
And yet a Spirit still, and bright     
With something of an angel light.     




-W. Wordsworth




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