Jar of Sense

 What Makes A Woman
By Albert N. Raub, Normal Fifth Reader, 1878
 

Not costly dress nor queenly air;
Not jeweled hand, complexion fair;
Not graceful form nor lofty tread,
Nor paint, nor curls, nor splendid head:
Not pearly teeth nor sparkling eyes,
Not voice that nightingale outvies;

Not breath as sweet as eglantine,
Not gaudy gems nor fabrics fine;
Not all the stores of fashion’s mart,
Not yet the blandishments of art;
Not one, nor all of these combined,
Can make one woman true, refined.
‘Tis not the body that we prize,
But that which in the body lies.
These outward charms that please the sight-
Are naught unless the heart be right.
She, to fulfill her destined end,
Must with her beauty goodness blend;
She must make it her incessant care,
To deck herself with jewels rare;
Of priceless gems must be possessed,
In robes of richest beauty dressed;
Yet these must clothe the inward mind,
In purity the most refined.

She who hath all these virtues combined,
Can man’s rough nature well refine;
She will have all she needs in this frail life,
To fit her for mother, sister, wife.
He who possesses such a friend,
Should cherish well till doth end.
Woman, so fine, the mate should be,
To sail with man o’er life’s rough sea;
And, when the storm cruise is o’er,
Attend him to fair Canaan’s shore.