Nothing but a woman, most pure womanly; a woman whose influence on all is strangely sweet and lasting,—­whose spirit overflows with tenderest sympathy for the many wants and sorrows of mankind,—­ whose voice charms away care,—­whose smile engenders peace,—­whose eyes, lustrous and thoughtful, are unclouded by any shadow of sin,—­and on whose serene beauty the passing of years leaves no visible trace.  That she is fair and wise, joyous, radiant, and holy is apparent to all,—­but only the Poet, her lover and lord, her subject and servant, can tell how truly his Edris is not so much sweet woman as most perfect Angel!  A Dream of Heaven made human! ...  Let some of us hesitate ere we doubt the Miracle; for we are sleepers and dreamers all,—­and the hour is close at hand when—­we shall Wake.

The end.