Woman.

Not faultless, for she was not fashioned so, A mingling of the bitter and the sweet; Lips that can laugh and sigh and whisper low Of hope and trust and happiness complete, Or speak harsh truths; eyes that can flash with fire, Or make themselves but wells of tenderness Wherein is drowned all bitterness and ire— Warm eyes whose lightest glance is a caress. Heaven sent her here to brighten this old earth, And only heaven fully knows her worth.