Classic Poem

Thus will I have the woman of my dream.
— Strong must she be and gentle, like a star
Her soul burn whitely; nor its arrowy beam

May any cloud of superstition mar:
— True to the earth she is, patient and calm.
Her tranquil eyes shall penetrate afar

Through centuries, and her maternal arm
— Enfold the generations yet unborn;
Nor she, by passing glamor nor alarm,

Will from the steadfast way of life be drawn.
— Gray-eyed and fearless, I behold her gaze
Outward into the furnace of the dawn.

Sacred shall be the purport of her days,
— Yet human; and the passion of the earth
Shall be for her adornment and her praise.

She is most often joyous, with a mirth
— That rings true-tempered holy womanhood.
She cannot fear the agonies of birth,

Nor sit in pallid lethargy and brood
— Upon the coming seasons of her pain:
By her the mystery is understood

Of harvest, and fulfilment in the grain.
— Yea, she is wont to labor in the field,
Delights to heap, at sunset, on the wain

Festoons and coronals of the golden yield.
— A triumph is the labor of her soul,
Sublime along eternity revealed.

Lo, everlastingly in her control,
— Under the even measure of her breath,
Like crested waves the onward centuries roll.

Nor to far heaven her spirit wandereth,
— Nor lifteth she her voice in barren prayer,
Nor trembleth at appearances of death.

She, godlike in her womanhood, will fare
— Calm-visaged and heroic to the end.
The homestead is her most especial care;

She loves the sacred hearth: she will defend
— Her gods from desecration of the vile.
Fierce, like a wounded tigress, she can rend

Whatever may have entered to defile.
— I see her in the evening by the fire,
And in her eyes, illumined from the pile

Of blazing logs, a motherly desire
— Glows like the moulded passion of a rose;
Beautiful is her presence in the bower:

Her spirit is the spirit of repose.
— Mankind shall hold her motherhood in awe:
Woman is she indeed, and not of those

That he with sacramental gold must draw
— Discreetly to his chamber in the night,
Or bind to him with fetters of the law.

He holds her by a spiritual right.
— With diamond and with pearl he need not sue;
Nor will she deck herself for his delight:

Beauty is the adornment of the true.
— She shall possess for ornament and gem
A flower, the glowworm, or the drop of dew:

More innocently fair than all of them,
— It will not even shame her if she make
A coronal of stars her diadem.

Though she is but a vision, I can take
— Courage from her. I feel her arrowy beam
Already, for her spirit is awake,

And passes down the future like a gleam, —
Thus have I made the woman of my dream.