Here; hold this glove (this milk-white cheveril glove) Not quaintly over-wrought with curious knots, Not deckt with golden spangs, nor silver spots, Yet wholsome for thy hand as thou shalt prove. Ah no: (sweet boy) place this glove neere thy heart, Weare it, and lodge it still within thy brest, So shalt thou make me (most unhappy,) blest. So shalt thou rid my paine, and ease my smart: How can that be (perhaps) thou wilt reply, A glove is for the hand not for the heart, Nor can it well be prov'd by common art, Nor reasons rule. To this, thus answere I: If thou from glove do'st take away the g, Then glove is love: and so I send it thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOVEMBER STARS by SARA TEASDALE LOVE'S CALENDAR by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH FOR A RETURN by A. A. ANDRIELLO THE SWORD OF CASTRUCCIO CASTRACANI by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A MARSH MESSAGE by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON HAYING TIME IN VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY WITH CORTEZ IN MEXICO by WILLIAM WILFRED CAMPBELL |