University of Virginia Library


131

THE YOUNG MEN'S PETITION TO THEIR EMPLOYERS.

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(WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF THE FRIENDS OF THE EARLY CLOSING MOVEMENT AT IPSWICH.)

I

We form no vain capricious wish,
No idle words deliver,
The boon we want is small to grant,
A trifle to the giver;
But great to us as health and strength,
And sweet as virtuous pleasure—
A little time at evening chime,
An hour or two of leisure.

II

We ask it not that we may throw
A burden on a neighbour,
Nor seek it coward-like to shirk
Our share of honest labour;
We feel and cherish the belief,
That were the gift accorded,
We'd work with double energy,
And earn it ere afforded.

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III

Nor do we crave those evening hours
For idle dissipation,
For lure of vice, for cards or dice,
Or worthless conversation.
We wish to breathe the breath of heaven,
When summer airs invite us,
Or read in wintry nights the books
That teach us and delight us.

IV

Not that this new-born work of mind
Our work of hand shall fetter;
'T is wise ambition to aspire
From good things to the better.
Not that we'll soar above the shop,
Or scorn our means of living,
Though life has something else to give
As greatly worth the giving.

V

Oh, no! we'll not neglect the round
Of still recurring duty,
But see and love in leisure gained
The charm of moral beauty.
And Hope shall make us better men;—
Be you the impartial judges,
And watch us grow in self-respect
In ceasing to be drudges.

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VI

Grant, then, the boon—the gain to us
Will make you none the poorer;
Free service profits more than slave—
Its gratitude is surer.
The ten hours' toil of thankful hearts
Is better worth receiving,
Than toil of ten and five, enforced
Mid discontent and grieving.

VII

That we may know the sympathies
Mid ceaseless toil denied us;
That we may taste the mental stores
Which books and men provide us;
That we may share the boundless wealth
Of intellectual pleasure—
Give us, we pray, at close of day,
An hour or two of leisure.

VIII

So may your wealth, from year to year,
Increase like corn-fields growing:
So may your cup of mortal joy
Be full to overflowing;
So never may compunctious throb
Disturb your contemplation,
That you refused your fellow-men
The chance of Education.