The man was old and ragged and gray

And bent with the chill of the winter's day

The street was wet with recent snow

And the man's feet were aged and slow

He stood at the crossing and waited long

Alone uncared for, amid the throng

Of human beings who just passed him by

Nor heeded the glance of his anxious eye

Down the street with laughter and shout

Glad in the freedom of " school let out "

Came the girls like a flock of sheep

Hauling the snow piled white and deep

Past the man old and gray

Hastened the children on their way,

No one offered a helping hand to him

So meek, so timid and afraid to stir

Lest the carriage wheels or the horses feet

Should crowd him down in the slippery street

At last came one of the merry troop,

The cheeriest girl of all the group:

She paused beside him and whispered low,

" I'll help you cross if you wish to go "

His aged hand on her strong young arm

he placed, and so, without hurt or harm,

She guided his trembling feet along

Proud that her own were firm and strong

Then back again to her friends she went

Her young heart happy and well content

" he's somebody's father, girls you know "

for all he's aged and poor and slow

And I hope some girl will lend a hand

To help MY father you understand

If ever he's poor and old and gray

When his own dear girl is " faraway

And somebody's father ' bowed low his head,

In his home that night, and the prayer he said,

God be kind to the noble girl,

" Who is somebody's daughter and pride and the world "

-Anonymous