The Madonna (Poem by Frank Oliver Call)

Daily Classic Poem

The Madonna
By Frank Oliver Call

She shivered and crouched in the immigrant shed
    In the midst of the surging crowd;
Her hands were warped with the years of toil,
    And her young form bent and bowed.

Her eyes looked forth with a frightened glance
    At the throng that round her pressed;
But her face was the face of the Mother of God
    As she looked at the babe on her breast.

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