In Amy Lowell’s “A Petition,” the speaker addresses someone she loves, asking to become an unnoticed part of their life. Rather than wanting attention or admiration, she prays to be shaped by long use into a tool that fits the beloved’s hand so naturally it is taken for granted. She imagines herself as a grey-toned strand woven through the bright tapestry of the other person’s life—hidden but strong, quietly holding the whole design together. The colour contrast matters: she does not wish to stand out, only to sustain. She also pictures herself as a railing beside a stairway of clouds, guarding the beloved’s steps upward into a dreamlike, starry sky. The final lines ask that the beloved not remember how they climbed, only that they were protected. The mood is tender, reverent, and quietly self-effacing, full of devotion that wants no credit.
A Petition — Summary
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.