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A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort and command; And yet a spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light.

Yet though the angel light that play'd Around her face, pierced not the shade That veil'd his eyeballs dim,— Yet to his ear her murmurs stole, And, with a faultering voice, he said That he felt them sink into his soul Like the blessed Virgin's hymn!

We have before us the ideal—the type which reconciles all the conditions of human life, physical and moral—the "perfect woman," who is also the fitting vehicle of the angel light.

"A perfect woman, nobly planned To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a spirit still, and bright, With something of an angel light."

"A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a spirit still and bright, With something of an angel light."