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This poem is about Mary McGinnis of Philadelphia, who died at 87, leaving a bequest of over a million dollars to her church for the education of needy children after having lived a life of self-imposed penury to achieve this. 
You had no need for grand attire, fashion’s frills did not inspire the goal you sought, the kind not bought It kept you nourished, gave you pride, a dream that would not be denied. All those ordinary needs for which one’s sense of comfort pleads, couldn’t change that goal or bribe your soul. You even shrugged off winter’s hold, stoically withstood the cold, invited it to come inside, meet the angels who decide if faith and dreams can coincide, securing you a special place among those martyrs of our race, who never wavered from the start, and suffered for a worthy cause Mary, you have won our hearts as well as our applause. |
