She Was A Ghost Of Delight

She was a ghost of delight
when I first saw her,
before my eyes shining:
an adorable apparition sent;
to decorate an instant;
His eyes were like twilight stars
And from the sunset also his dark hair.
But all the rest of her
it came from spring and its joyous dawn;
a dancing form, a radiant image
to harass, startle and stalk.
I took a closer look at her: a spirit
But a woman too!
Light and ethereal their movements of home,
And his step was one of virginal freedom;
A countenance in which they contemplated
sweet memories, and promises too;
for daily food of being,
for fleeting pains, simple deceptions,
praise, reproach, love, kisses, tears, smiles.
Now I see with serene eyes
the same pulse of the machine;
a being breathing a meditated air,
a pilgrim between life and death,
firm reason, temperate will,
patience, foresight, strength and dexterity.
A perfect woman
nobly planned to warn,
to comfort, and order.
And still a spirit that glows
with some angelic light.