A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light
Small service is true service, while it lasts.
Wisdom sits with children round her knees.
When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.