HERE on my desk it lies,

Here as the daylight dies,

One small glove just her size—

Pearly gray, a colour neat,

Deux boutons all complete,

Faint scented, soft and sweet;

Can I the day forget,

Years ago, when the pet

Gave it me?—where we met

Then ’twas the summer time;

Now as I write this rhyme

Children love pantomime—

Fancy my boyish bliss

Then when she gave me this,

And how the frequent kiss

Then she was fair and kind,

Now, when I’ve changed my mind,

Still some scent undefined

Though she’s a matron sage,

Yet I have kept the gage;

While, as I pen this page,

Her eldest daughter, fair,

With the same eyes and hair;

Happy the arm I swear,

Heaven grant her fate be bright,

And her step ever light

As it will be to-night,

Why did her mother prove

False when I dared to love?

Zounds! I shall burn the glove!