Francis Hackett,
The Invisible Censor
“ Youth, like spring, taunts the person who is not a poet. Just because it is formative and fugitive it evokes imagination; it has a bloom too momentary to be self-conscious, vanished almost as soon as it is seen. In boys as well as girls this beauty discloses itself. It is a delicacy as tender as the first green leaf, an innocence like the shimmering dawn, “brightness of azure, clouds of fragrance, a tinkle of falling water and singing birds.” People feel this when they accept youth as immaculate and heed its mute expectancies. ”
