| Subject: Re: Trying to find a poem that my mother used to read to me |
Author:
steve Butler
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Date Posted: 00:17:48 11/07/03 Fri
In reply to:
Dawn
's message, "Trying to find a poem that my mother used to read to me" on 11:18:15 09/19/02 Thu
>I'm trying to find a poem that my mother read to me in
>about 1960. I can only remember a few lines. "The
>woman was old and ragged and gray and bent with the
>chill of the winter's day."
>
>Can you help?
>
>Dawn
Yes, I found it. If you need more clarification on location that what follows E-mail me at Sbutler15@aol.com
the immortal poem by Mary Dow Brine:
“The woman was old and ragged and gray
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 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. ……
[One] paused beside her and whispered low,
‘‘I’ll help you cross, if you wish to go? ……
‘‘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 gray,
When 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 somebody’s son, and pride and joy.’’
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