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...THE DIORAMA PAINTER AT THE MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY by KAREN SWENSON ALONE (2) by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE ELEGY: 16. ON HIS MISTRESS by JOHN DONNE THE WITCHES' FROLIC by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: CANTO 2 by WILLIAM BASSE |