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A Noble Boy


The woman was old and feeble and grey,
And bent with the chill of the winter's day;
The street was wet with the recent snow,
And the woman's feet were weary and slow.
She stood at the crossing and waited long,
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng.
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.

At last came one of the merry troup -
The gayest boy of all the group;
He paused beside her, and whispered low
'I'll help you across if you wish to go;
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 is somebody's mother, boys you know,
Although she is old and poor and slow,
And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother - you understand -
If e'er she be poor and old and grey,
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.'