![\"Vintage](\"https:\/\/content.artofmanliness.com\/uploads\/\/2012\/05\/mother.jpg\" "\\"mother\\"")
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An old sentimental poem in honor of Mother’s Day.<\/em><\/p>\n Somebody’s Mother<\/strong> The woman was old and ragged and gray, At the crowded crossing she waited long, Down the street with laughter and shout. None offered a helping hand to her, At last came out of the merry troop Her aged hand on his strong young arm “She’s somebody’s mother, boys, you know, “Somebody’s mother” bowed low her head An old sentimental poem in honor of Mother’s Day. Somebody’s Mother By Mary D. Brine The woman was old and ragged and gray, And bent with the chill of a winter’s day; The streets were white with a recent snow, And the woman’s feet with age were slow. At the crowded crossing she waited long, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":24561,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[502,42272],"tags":[42295],"class_list":["post-14800","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-character","category-manly-lessons","tag-manvotionals"],"featured_image_urls":{"aom":"https:\/\/content.artofmanliness.com\/uploads\/2012\/05\/mother-372x212.jpg","reactor-320":"https:\/\/content.artofmanliness.com\/uploads\/2012\/05\/mother-320x136.jpg"},"yoast_head":"\n
\nBy Mary D. Brine<\/p>\n
\nAnd bent with the chill of a winter’s day;
\nThe streets were white with a recent snow,
\nAnd the woman’s feet with age were slow.<\/p>\n
\nJostled aside by the careless throng
\nOf human beings who passed her by.
\nUnheeding the glance of her anxious eye.<\/p>\n
\nGlad in the freedom of “school let out,”
\nCome happy boys, like a flock of sheep,
\nHailing the snow piled white and deep;
\nPast the woman, so old and gray.
\nHastened the children on their way.<\/p>\n
\nSo weak and timid, afraid to stir,
\nLest the carriage wheels or the horses’ feet
\nShould trample her down in the slippery street.<\/p>\n
\nThe gayest boy of all the group;
\nHe paused beside her and whispered low,
\n“I’ll help you across, if you wish to go.”<\/p>\n
\nShe placed, and so without hurt or harm
\nHe guided the trembling feet along,
\nProud that his own were young and strong;
\nThen back again to his friends he went,
\nHis young heart happy and well content<\/p>\n
\nFor all she’s aged, and poor and slow;
\nAnd some one, some time, may lend a hand
\nTo help my mother\u2014you understand?\u2014
\nIf ever she’s old and poor and gray,
\nAnd her own dear boy so far away.”<\/p>\n
\nIn her home that night, and the prayer she said
\nWas: “God be kind to that noble boy,
\nWho is somebody’s son and pride and joy.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"