Explore "An Empty Glove" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I. An empty glove-long withering in the grasp / Of Time's cold palm. I lift it to my lips,- / And lo, once more I thrill beneath its clasp, / In fancy, as with odorous finger-tips / It reaches from the years that used to be / And proffers back love, life and all, to me.
II. Ah! beautiful she was beyond belief: / Her face was fair and lustrous as the moon's; / Her eyes-too large for small delight or grief,- / The smiles of them were Laughter's afternoons; / Their tears were April showers, and their love- / All sweetest speech swoons ere it speaks thereof.
III. White-fruited cocoa shown against the shell / Were not so white as was her brow below / The cloven tresses of the hair that fell / Across her neck and shoulders of nude snow; / Her cheeks-chaste pallor, with a crimson stain- / Her mouth was like a red rose rinsed with rain.
IV. And this was she my fancy held as good- / As fair and lovable-in every wise / As peerless in pure worth of womanhood / As was her wondrous beauty in men's eyes. - / Yet, all alone, I kiss this empty glove- / The poor husk of the hand I loved-and love.