C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

The Widow’s Mite

THE WIDOW had but only one,—

A puny and decrepit son;

Yet day and night,

Though fretful oft, and weak, and small,

A loving child, he was her all—

The Widow’s Mite.

The Widow’s might;—yes! so sustained,

She battled onward, nor complained

When friends were fewer;

And cheerful at her daily care,

A little crutch upon the stair

Was music to her.

I saw her then,—and now I see,

Though cheerful and resigned, still she

Has sorrowed much:

She has—He gave it tenderly—

Much faith; and, carefully laid by,

A little crutch.