| 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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