"She Was a Phantom of Delight" by William Wordsworth (read by Tom O'Bedlam)

A poem written to his wife Mary, who was his childhood sweetheart. Presumably she didn't mind being called a machine because it meant something different in those days, an organism.
There's no record of she thought about being called "not too bright".
Mary warned, comforted and commanded him, hinting that she was something of a scold. Perhaps a chap who likes to wander lonely as a cloud needs bringing down to earth with a bump now and then.
Together they made five children and you can tell by the look of devotion on her face in the portrait that she loved him. Or perhaps she was looking forward to having sex when the sitting was over.
"Two voices are there: one is of the deep;
It learns the storm-cloud's thunderous melody,
Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea,
Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep:
And one is of an old half-witted sheep
Which bleats articulate monotony,
And indicates that two and one are three,
That grass is green,
lakes damp, and mountains steep:
And, Wordsworth, both are thine: at certain times
Forth from the heart of thy melodious rhymes,
The form and pressure of high thoughts will burst:
At other times--good Lord! I'd rather be
Quite unacquainted with the ABC
Than write such hopeless rubbish as thy worst."
J. K. Stephen
There's a fascinating article about the Wordsworths here.
tinyurl.com/8ypv8v

[@Ahavati1]

He loved her in words, recounting from the moment he first saw her, as a vision on the horizon, to reality of flesh, like an oasis which really isn't a mirage, to realization in latter years of hr true worth before it was too late. That's the real blessing in the poetic tale.

[@SpokenVerse]

Henry, thank you. I've modified the information and the mission statement in my profile.

[@moneymakerfosho6915]

Bravo