Classic Poem

A woman's crowning glory is her tact,
The art of knowing when and what to say;
When to be grave, indifferent, or gay,
And seem so charming in her every act
That, as a magnet, she will men attract
And easily compel them to her sway.
So shall she rule, or golden hair or gray,
The subtlest type of womanhood in fact.

For tact is more than beauty, more than wit,
Akin to genius, and the sum of all
Which makes the woman who is blessed with it
A Queen by right, in hovel or in hall;
Sweet as the honeyed lines by poet writ
And true as rings the wild-bird's madrigal.