Most people may not know this about me, but I've kept all the letters, notes, and cards I've received since I was in grade school. Even those written on scratch paper, post-its, and tissue paper. I love writing notes/letters because I think they're more personal and more meaningful.
And so, last Friday night, feeling a little bit nostalgic, I whipped out the box containing those I got in college. I had to laugh at the stuff we talked about then-- boys, stinky teachers, failing grades in Math, boys, short-term goals like having boyfriends, weird classmates, and more boys! Things were definitely a bit less complicated, albeit more dramatic, then.
I thought about the faces behind those letters, and remembered all the things we've been through. And then I came across a note, with handwriting I didn't recognize. This poem was written on a torn 1/2 piece of notebook paper:
PERFECT WOMAN
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 way-lay.
I saw her upon nearer view,
A spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her havehold motions light and free,
And steps of virgin-liberty;
A countenance on 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, live, kisses, tears and smiles.
And now I see with eyes 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 planned,
To warm, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.
-William Wordsworth
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