William Wordsworth. 1770–1850

Perfect Woman

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;                 5
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.         10

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         15
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.         20

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,         25
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 angelic light.