Poem by Amy Lowell

A Petition

I pray to be the tool which to your hand
Long use has shaped and moulded till it be
Apt for your need, and, unconsideringly,
You take it for its service.  I demand
To be forgotten in the woven strand
Which grows the multi-coloured tapestry
Of your bright life, and through its tissues lie
A hidden, strong, sustaining, grey-toned band.
I wish to dwell around your daylight dreams,
The railing to the stairway of the clouds,
To guard your steps securely up, where streams
A faery moonshine washing pale the crowds
Of pointed stars.  Remember not whereby
You mount, protected, to the far-flung sky.

1. Lead Soldiers
2. Epitaph of a Young Poet Who Died Before Having Achieved Success
3. On Carpaccio’s Picture: The Dream of St. Ursula
4. The Cyclists
5. A Blockhead

Thomas Aldrich A Petition ("To spring belongs the violet, and the blown")

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