I hope my sons will be
as nice, compassionate young boys and men as the boy in this poem. Their Dad is
certainly s good example and role model for them – and for me. Not wanting to
loose these beautiful words, I thought I’d better post them here. Hopefully
someone else might enjoy them as well.
Somebody’s
Mother
By Mary Dow
Brine (1816-1913)
The woman
was old and ragged and grey
And bent
with the chill of the Winter’s day.
The street
was wet with a recent snow
And the
woman’s feet were aged and slow.
She stood
at the crossing and waited long,
Alone,
uncared for, amid the throng
Of human beings
who passed her by
Nor heeded
the glance of her anxious eyes.
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.
Past the
woman so old and grey
Hastened
the children on their way
Nor offered
a helping hand to her -
So meek, so
timid, afraid to stir
Lest the
carriage wheels 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 cross if you wish to go.”
Her aged
hand on his strong young arm
She placed,
and so, without hurt or harm,
He guided
the trembling feet along,
Proud that
his own were firm and strong.
Then back
again to his friends he went,
His young
heart happy and well content.
“She’s somebody’s
mother, boys, you know,
For all 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 grey,
When her own
dear boy is far away.”
And “somebody’s
mother” bowed her head
In her home
that night, and the prayer she said
Was “God be
kind to the noble boy,
Who is
somebody’s son, and pride and joy!”
