The woman was old and ragged and gray
And bent with the chill of a winters day
The street was wet with the recent snow
The woman's feet were aged and slow



She stood at the crossing and waited long
Alone uncared for amidst the throng
Of human beings who passed her by
Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye



Down the street with laughter and shout
Glad in the freedom of school let out
Came the boys like a flock of sheep
Hailing the snow piled white and deep



Passed the woman so old and gray
Hastened the children on their way
Nor offered a helping hand to her
So meek, so timid, afraid to stir



Lest the carriage wheel, or the horses feet
Should crowd her down in the slippery street
At last came one of the merry troop
The gayest laddie of all the group



He paused beside her and whispered low
I'll help you across if you wish to go
Her aged hand, on his strong arm
She placed it so without hurt or harm



He guided her trembling feet along
Proud that his own were firm and strong
Then back again to his fiends he went
His young heart happy and well content



She's somebody's mother, boys you know
Although she's aged and poor and slow
And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother you understand
If ever she's poor and old and gray
And her own dear boy is far away



And somebody's mother bowed low her head
In her home that night and the prayer she said
Was God be kind to the noble boy
Who is somebodys son and pride and joy

~*Author Unknown*~
~*My Mother used to recite this poem to me
when I was very young and I asked her to
write it down for me before she died.
I thought that you might love it too*~

~*please don't leave before signing my guestbook*~