Ragged, uncomely, and old and gray,
A woman walked in a Scottish town;
And through the crowd, as she wound her way,
One saw her loiter and then stoop down,
Putting something away in her old, torn gown.
"You are hiding a jewel!" the watcher said--
(Ah, that was her heart, had the truth been read.)
"What have you stolen?" he asked again;
Then the dim eyes filled with a sudden pain,
And under the flickering light of the gas
She showed him her gleaning. "It's broken glass,"
She said. "I hae lifted it up frae the street
To be oot o' the rood o' the bairnies' feet!"
Under the fluttering rags astir
That was a royal heart that beat!
Would that the world had more like her
Smoothing the road for its bairnies' feet!
--_W. H. Ogilvie._
853