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The woman was old, ragged and
gray,
and bent with the chill of the winter's day.
Her feet were wet with the recent snow, and
the woman's feet were aged and slow.
She stood at the street crossing, and
waited
long, uncared for among the throng of human
beings who passed her by, never heeding the
glance in her anxious eye.
Down the street with laughter and
shout,
came a group of boys glad that school was out,
Passed the lady old and gray,
and hastened on their merry way,
On they went like a flock of sheep, as they
played in svow piles white and deep.
At last came one of the group, the
sturdiest
lad in all of the troops,
He paused beside her and whispered low,
"I'll help you across if you wish to go."
She placed her arm on his strong young
arm,
and he guided her trembling feet along,
proud that he was young and strong.
That night as she was preparing for
bed,
she got on her knees and the proyer she said
was, "God be kind to that noble boy; he's
some mother's son with pride and joy."
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