Verse > Anthologies > Fuess and Stearns, eds. > The Little Book of Society Verse
Fuess and Stearns, comps.  The Little Book of Society Verse.  1922.
The Romance of a Glove
By H. Saville Clarke
HERE on my desk it lies,
Here as the daylight dies,
One small glove just her size—
  Six and a quarter;
Pearl-gray, a color neat,        5
Deux boutons all complete,
Faint-scented, soft and sweet;
  Could glove be smarter?
Can I the day forget,
Years ago, when the pet        10
Gave it me?—where we met
  Still I remember;
Then ’t was the summer-time;
Now as I write this rhyme
Children love pantomime—        15
  ’T is in December.
Fancy my boyish bliss
Then when she gave me this,
And how the frequent kiss
  Crumpled its fingers;        20
Then she was fair and kind,
Now, when I’ve changed my mind,
Still some scent undefined
  On the glove lingers.
Though she’s a matron sage,        25
Yet I have kept the gage;
While, as I pen this page,
  Still comes a goddess,
Her eldest daughter, fair,
With the same eyes and hair:        30
Happy the arm, I swear,
  That clasps her bodice.
Heaven grant her fate be bright,
And her step ever light
As it will be to-night,        35
  First in the dances.
Why did her mother prove
False when I dared to love?
Zounds! I shall burn the glove!
  This my romance is.        40

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