A SMILE.

A SMILE.
564.6

The brightness of the morn was hid
‘Neath clouds of dull, unsoftened gray;
My heart beat low beneath its weight
Of grief, and sorrowed with the day.
A mockery was all gladness-yet.
A loved one smiled-straight from the heart
The glad look came, and mine, meeting
A sweet peace soft enfolded me:
And gave with strength almost di- vine
The wondrous power to forget.
-Gertrude Mercia Wheelock.