Now and then one sees a face which has kept its smile pure and undefiled. Such a smile transfigures; such a smile, if the artful but know it, is the greatest weapon a face can have.
Helen Hunt JacksonO sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind.
Helen Hunt JacksonFor April sobs while these are so glad April weeps while these are so gay,- Weeps like a tired child who had, Playing with flowers, lost its way.
Helen Hunt Jackson