The Petition

H! pause awhile, kind gentleman,

Nor turn thy face away;

There is a boon that I must ask,

A pray'r that I would pray.

Thou hast a gentle wife at home?

A son--perchance like me--

And children fair with golden hair

To cling around thy knee?

Then by their love I pray thee,

And by their merry tone;

By home, and all its tender joys,

Which I have never known,--

By all the smiles that hail thee now;

By ev'ry former sigh;

By ev'ry pang that thou hast felt

When lone, perchance, as I,--

By youth and all its blossoms bright,

By manhood's ripen'd fruits,

By Faith and Hope and Charity--

Yer'll let me clean yer boots!