Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A RELIC, by J. B. S.


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A RELIC, by                    
First Line: Only a woman's right-hand glove
Last Line: With its yearning eyes of love!
Subject(s): Gloves; Mittens; Muffs


ONLY a woman's right-hand glove,
Five and three quarters, Courvoisier's make,—
For all common purposes useless enough,
Yet dearer for her sweet sake.

Dearer to me for her who filled
Its empty place with a warm white hand, —
The hand I held ere her voice was stilled
In the sleep of the silent land.

Only a glove! yet speaking to me
Of the dear dead days now vanished and fled,
And the face that I never again shall see
Till the grave give back its dead.

An empty glove! yet to me how full
Of the fragrance of days that come no more,
Of memories that make us, and thoughts that rule
Man's life in its inmost core!

The tone of her voice, the poise of her head,—
All, all come back at the will's behest;
The music she loved, the books that she read,—
Nay, the colors that suited her best.

And O, that night by the wild sea-shore,
With its tears, and kisses, and vows of love,
When, as pledge of the parting promise we swore,
Each gave a glove for a glove!

You laugh! but remember though only a glove,
Which to you may no deeper meaning express,
To me it is changed by the light of that love
To the one sweet thing I possess.

Our souls draw their nurture from many a ground,
And faiths that are different in their roots,
Where the will is right, and the heart is sound,
Are much the same in their fruits.

Men get at the truth by different roads,
And must live the part of it each one sees:
You gather your guides out of orthodox codes,
I mine out of trifles like these.

A trifle, no doubt, but, in such a case,
So bathed in the light of a love gone by,
It has entered the region and takes its place
With the things that cannot die.

This trifle to me is of heavenly birth;
No chance, as I take it, but purposely given
To help me to sit somewhat looser to earth,
And closer a little to heaven.

For it seems to bring me so near, O, so near
To the face of an angel watching above,—
That face of all others I held so dear,
With its yearning eyes of love!





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