She Was a Phantom of Delight

She Was a Phantom of Delight
by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
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See Beadshaper
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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.
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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.
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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.