[Iolanthe]
My lord, a suppliant at your feet I kneel
Oh, listen to a mother’s fond appeal!
Hear me to-night! I come in urgent need –
’Tis for my son, young Strephon, that I plead!
He loves! If in the bygone years
Thine eyes have ever shed
Tears – bitter, unavailing tears
For one untimely dead –
If, in the eventide of life
Sad thoughts of her arise
Then let the memory of thy wife
Plead for my boy – he dies!
He dies! If fondly laid aside
In some old cabinet
Memorials of thy long-dead bride
Lie, dearly treasured yet
Then let her hallowed bridal dress –
Her little dainty gloves –
Her withered flowers – her faded tress –
Plead for my boy – he loves!