From The Birmingham Age Herald, August 22, 1913. By William Wordsworth.
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 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 traveler 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.